


vermillion bones (slither through my veins, make a liar out of me)

by princepixel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amusement Parks, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Dark, Drowning, Gen, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Interactive, M/M, Mental Instability, Multiple Endings, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Nct dream ensemble - Freeform, OT18 (NCT), Oof These Tags, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, TAGS DEPEND ON WHAT ROUTE YOU END UP ON!!!!, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Trauma, Violence, cameos by xiaojun hendery yangyang in one route hehe, can be canonverse if u want, game, implied renmin noren renhyuck nomin etc The Works yanno, relationships arent the focus minus jaeyong, some relationships also depend on the route, sorry i started this a year ago before xiaohenyang were born
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 103,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepixel/pseuds/princepixel
Summary: “We left something in that forest.” Jaemin tells Renjun with shaking hands in the dead of night. “I don’t know if it was what we thought we left.”B A D             E N D→  Try again, Taeyong.An interactive NCT choose-your-own-adventure horror game.Good luck.UPDATE 11/1: Chapter 8: KEEP GOING is up! Happy Halloween!





	1. start.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO welcome lets debrief!
> 
> i loved reading choose your own adventure books when i was a kid so i decided to make my own! and i’ve personally never seen this format done on ao3, at least not to this extent and not for nct (correct me if im wrong????) but i thought it would be really cool for a horror au! also i started this in october 2018 so this is ot18...mostly ;) and there might be more fics of this form by now, i have no idea
> 
> HOW THIS WORKS: each chapter will have a decision at the end of it. there will be another chapter corresponding to the decision you make and a link that will take you there. there are about 12 bad endings, 7 neutral, and 2 good endings. the game ends if taeyong dies. if this gets uhhhh 500 kudos OR is requested by a certain lucky person who finds my easter egg ;) then i’ll construct a true happy ending route. since october is starting and i really dont want to miss the window of horror enthusiasm again, there ARE still a few forked paths/routes under construction!!!! sorry about that, i'll get them up when i can. college is busy! and i don't have a beta heh
> 
> i HIGHLY!!!! encourage you to try all the routes and explore the choices. not every choice will be as simple as it seems. each route is fleshed out uniquely from each other and i spent a fuck ton of time writing every end so humor me and try some stuff out will ya ;) as i wrote, a lot of the routes developed into their own story so you may discover some terms/clues/themes in one route that don't happen in another.
> 
> playing it safe may not always be your best option.
> 
> be warned!!! this is a horror au!!!! what happens WILL depend on your choices of course but you’re VERY likely to end up on a path with major character death and/or graphic violence. this is a dark fic.
> 
> with that said, i’ve put a lot into this and may continue to add routes (and switch up the paths of some existing routes) so feel free to suggest some! and if u wanna know some inside scoop on the routes/surprises or need explanations hit me up on cc! 
> 
> comment as you go!! i know you dont have to wait for updates or anything but i’m really interested to see what you predict will happen at which forks hehehehehe enjoy
> 
>   
[music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aiAdd9t8DQ&t=3022s)  
[to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSqbCnuHI6w)  
[set](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=knFrXDpeRqA)  
[the](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMXDkMtnAQQ&t=1195s)  
[mood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X--TT1ABB_Y)  

> 
> the first choice is the VERY important. good luck

“Stop fucking kicking me, Mark!”

Taeyong sighs with the force of a thousand overworked parents as he sinks further back into his seat. “Mark, Donghyuck, please stop bickering. We’ll be there soon.”

“Well I wouldn’t be kicking you if you would stop trying to strangle me with my seat belt!” Mark snarks. It’s true. Donghyuck has the seat belt wrapped around his wrist and is periodically tugging on it to make it lock up. Little shits.

“No murder, please. That bar is _ so _ low.” Taeyong drags a hand down the side of his face. Jaehyun, sitting next to him, notices his exhaustion and bumps his shoulder affectionately.

“C’mon, Yong. Don’t get all tired out already! We have a long day ahead of us.” Jaehyun whispers into his ear, a fond smile on his face. Taeyong whines at the thought of herding the eighteen boys around all day, and Jaehyun giggles at him. “I’ll help keep the kids in check, don’t worry.” Taeyong wraps his arms around Jaehyun as best as he can through the mess of seat belts, and trails his fingertips over the boy’s cheek.

“You’re the best, Jae.”

“‘_You’re the best, Jae’ _” A high pitched voice mocks, accompanied by loud (and concerningly realistic) retching sounds. “Gross.”

“Shut the fuck up, Yuta.” Ten groans from the passenger seat, grumpy from having just been woken up from a nap.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” mutters Taeyong.

There’s a small gasp from behind them. “Ten said the _ fuck word_!” Jisung says with wide eyes.

“Good going Ten, you’ve ruined the children.” Taeil leans forward and smacks Ten on the top of the head. Ten scowls.

“We live together! They were already ruined.” Ten’s voice drops dangerously low and lilting. “Might I remind you of that time I walked in on you and Johnny and those balloon animals--”

Taeyong watches his best friends bickering endlessly and promptly wishes he could be absorbed entirely into the seat by osmosis and live as just a little puddle of flesh between the creaky bus springs. It happens. He cuddles closer into Jaehyun’s side.

Johnny (who is driving because none of the rest of them have licenses) turns up the bubblegum pop blasting from the speakers. The bickering is effectively drowned out, but it doesn’t matter anymore since the entire bus is thrown into song and dance.

“I wanna know know know know WHAT IS LOVE!” Eighteen boys screech. The windows shake. So does Taeyong, a little bit.

And blessedly, there is peace-- one that can only be achieved by the beautiful unity brought on by terrible harmonization of a bangin’ girl group song. Utter bliss. That is, until Doyoung is hit by a flailing limb courtesy of an over-enthusiastic Lucas and the arguing fires up again. A more chill hip hop song floats onto the radio, still played at full blast.

Taeyong tries to tune the racket out and focus in on the song playing. He can’t quite recognize the beats, but somewhere it feels familiar. Suddenly, the radio cuts out.

The sounds of the fighting boys around him is amplified for a second until everyone else notices the absence of music, falling silent. Johnny curses and hits at the speakers a bit. The radio makes a god awful screeching noise, high pitched and piercing. Taeyong covers his ears, but the screeching vanishes in a second, replaced by a garbled, foreign sounding melody.

_ Wake up, a different you inside _

_ -SCREECH- _

_ Even when I extend my hand I can’t reach you _

_ The darkness that is rising _

_ -SCREECH- _

_ Let’s wake up! _

The radio splutters for the last time and dissolves back into chill lofi hip hop as Johnny delivers another blow to it. They drive quietly for a few moments. Taeyong looks down. Jaehyun’s hands are shaking. He grabs onto them gently.

Scanning around, some of the other boys seem a little shaken as well. He reaches back and ruffles Jisung’s hair.

“That was kind of weird.” Jungwoo says quietly.

Jaehyun straightens up like he’s been burned, forcing Taeyong to wrench his hand away for a moment. “I’m sure it’s nothing, guys. Johnny or Ten probably just accidentally hit a button on the dashboard and switched to a bad station, or something.”

Taeyong sags back against the seat again. “Yeah, Jaehyun’s right.”

No one brings up the fact that both of Johnny’s hands were firmly on the wheel and Ten had gone back to sleep.

“Yeah, but that screeching…” Renjun starts, eyebrows drawn together in distress. His hands fiddle together in his lap.

“I know. Weird, right? You must be scared. Don’t worry, I’ll hold your-- I’ll hold your hand-- ugh, stay still!” Jaemin lunges forward and tries to grab onto Renjun, who effortlessly evades him each time.

“No, what I was gonna say...it sounded like…” He trails off again. Everyone on the bus unconsciously leans in a little bit. The words were so muffled, what could Renjun possibly have heard?

It’s so silent they could’ve heard a pin drop.

“It sounded like Hyuck’s terrible falsetto.”

And with that, the tension in the vehicle shatters. Donghyuck gives up on torturing Mark and turns his fury on Renjun, but they just end up cuddling on one of the seats. Taeyong sighs (part fond, part frustrated) and turns back to Jaehyun, where he is met with a bright flash.

“Ow, Jae!” Taeyong complains, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Why are you even using flash?”

Jaehyun shrugs, but his shoulders are stiff. He doesn’t look up from the phone. Taeyong leans in a little closer. The device in his hands doesn’t look familiar. Jaehyun’s old phone case was covered in stickers and sharpie marker (courtesy of the kids), but this one, though obviously new, looks dirty and beat up, a different kind of weathered. Jaehyun has a weird hipster aesthetic like that. The outside model looks similar, though a little old fashioned and clunky, but the interface looks foreign. “Huh, did you get a new phone?”

Jaehyun grins up at him. “Yup, got it last night.” He shifts to sit on his knees in the little seat, stretching and reaching around to snap a pic of Lucas. The flash goes off again, just as bright, and Lucas groans and covers his eyes.

“Ew, I look gross, delete that! I wasn’t even ready.” Lucas makes grabby hands at the phone, but Jaehyun raises it out of reach. Lucas pulls his hands back. “Just kidding, you can keep it. I always look good.” He runs a hand through his hair, forgetting that he cut it earlier on in the week. He kind of just looks like a douchebag. Lucas returns to where Jungwoo is snuggled tightly into his side, fondly playing with the other boy’s hair, who actually has enough hair to play with.

Jaehyun turns and snaps a picture of Renjun, just waking up from sleeping sandwiched between Jeno and Jaemin. The two boys are looking fondly down at him, and quietly beg Jaehyun to send them the picture.

Taeyong nuzzles into Jaehyun’s shoulder, pouting. “Delete mine _ pleaaaase_, it’s so blurry and I look terrible!”

Jaehyun pats his cheek. “Only for you.” He lets Taeyong watch him delete the photo. Taeyong beams at him-- Jaehyun is well aware of how insecure he can get.

“Okay, I need contact pictures!” Jaehyun claps his hands, sing-songing to the rest of the bus. He rotates a bit, snapping pictures of some of the boys around him. He doesn’t finish, though, as the bus soon creaks to a halt in front of the amusement park.

Taeyong rises and starts shepherding the gaggle of teenagers off the bus. He has to literally disentangle Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck from each other. God only knows how they were able to cram all four of them on one bus seat, let alone fall asleep like that.

They managed to get a relatively good parking spot, pretty close to the park entrance. Taeyong is the last to step off the bus, after making sure that no one is left behind, asleep under one of the seats or something. He sighs. It’s happened before.

Out of nowhere, a vaguely purple blur streaks past Taeyong, flattening him against the seats. “What in the _ world_\--” 

The bus is silent except for the slightly uneasy sound of rustling, before a head pops up from the seats in the back. “Found it!” Chenle proclaims proudly, something swinging from his fingertips. Taeyong moves forward to look at what could be so important as to hold them up. Really, it could be anything. Chenle once made them drive an hour so he could pick up and recycle a sandwich wrapper he didn’t realize he dropped.

To Taeyong’s surprise, Chenle is wielding a little keychain. It’s rather pretty, a smooth, dark brown oval with a slightly pointed end, and a glass circle cut into the middle. The edges are painted with black swirls and pink and red flowers. Chenle carefully clips it back onto his bag. 

“Where did you get that?” asks Taeyong. 

“I found it the other night!”

“It’s cute, Lele.” Taeyong smiles down at him and gently moves him to the front of the vehicle before following him off the bus and locking the door. “Do you have enough snacks?”

Chenle grins, patting his bag lightly. “Yup, yup! Even brought a game to play in case we get bored or stuck at the top of a roller coaster. You never know!”

“Very smart.” Taeyong musses up Chenle’s hair affectionately and jogs to catch up with the others.

Everyone gathers underneath the huge arching wooden sign in front of the gates. It screams, _ INCHEON’S BEST HORROR FEST! _in bright red, dripping lettering.

“I’m so excited!” Jeno’s eyes light up. “I’ve never been to a horror fest before!”

Doyoung chuckles and rubs at Jeno’s back. “It’ll be fun! If you get scared of any of the actors we’ll fight them off for you.” He puts up some mock fists, making Jeno giggle.

“I can’t believe there’s no line.” Kun says, craning his neck around. He’s right-- the area is pretty empty.

“There’s probably a lot of people already inside. We aren’t exactly early.” Taeyong checks his watch. It’s already dark out, a little past nine.

They grab their tickets and enter the park. The decorations are delightfully spooky, blood spatters on the walls and spiderwebs stretched out across the bushes. All the entrances to the rides have been redecorated to look haunting, and some have even had their names changed for the occasion. There are metal gates set up around the area for the lines for the specially built haunted houses and horror walks. There are the normal food vendors sprinkled around the park, but they don’t seem to be open.

Sicheng walks over to one of the closed stands. “Huh. I wonder if this is part of the attraction?”

“Maybe they closed early.” Jaehyun offers, shrugging. “Why don’t we go on some rides?”

After a heated game of rock paper scissors, Renjun wins and gets to choose the first ride they go on. There’s really nothing stopping them from splitting up other than Taeyong not wanting people to go off by themselves. It’s much easier and safer to keep everyone together.

“By the way, guys!” Taeyong interrupts, “If anyone gets lost our meeting point will be the entrance to the park. Everyone should have their phones, but if something happens the customer service booth is right over there, they can call one of us as well.”

“Yeah yeah mom, we get it.” Yuta rolls his eyes. “What, are you gonna make us do a headcount after every ride, too? We aren’t six, you know.”

“Maybe I will.” Taeyong says defensively. “And if you aren’t six you should start showing it.” he adds under his breath. Yuta gives him a glare but is quickly distracted by Taeil tugging on his arm. Thank god.

Naturally, Renjun decides to start off with the absolute scariest ride in this area of the park. It’s some ‘Vampire’s Death Drop’ thing a little ways to the left of the entrance.

On the walk over, Taeyong gets a twisting feeling in his gut. Something just feels _ off. _ The place isn’t deserted, exactly, but it isn’t busy either-- at least not like it usually is in the peak of Halloween season. What’s most strange is the lack of park horror actors. Usually there are plenty of workers in elaborate costumes and special effects makeup, looking to chase you around the park or try to intimidate you with fake weapons as you parade around the attractions with cotton candy and ice cream, but they all seem rather scarce at the moment, save for one loping figure dragging a chain saw. He isn’t trying to scare anyone, though, isn’t even making eye contact with anyone. He’s probably going on break.

Oh, well. The night is just beginning, anyways.

They reach the first ride, a looping roller coaster with a gravity defying drop at the beginning. The attraction is decked out with fake bats and cobwebs and fake blood, transforming it into a little vampire’s den.

Lucas looks a little green at the sight of the ride. Taeyong puts a careful hand on his shoulder, and the boy jumps like Taeyong’s never seen. His hands are shaking, lip trembling, and there’s something strange in his eyes. They look almost glazed.

“You know you don’t have to ride it if you’re scared, right? We won’t make fun of you.” Taeyong whispers into Lucas’s ear, low enough that the members who actually would make fun of him can’t hear.

Lucas gives himself a shake, eyes clearing a bit. “Nah, I’m good. Just felt kind of queasy for a moment there.”

Taeyong laughs. “If you’re gonna puke, pair up with Yuta and sit _ far _ away from me, thanks.”

Renjun bounds up to them with starry eyes. “I’ll ride with you, Lucas!” Jeno and Jaemin pout from farther away.

They pair up and head into the ride. The line isn’t too bad since the night isn’t too busy. Taeyong, of course, tucks himself into a seat next to Jaehyun. Jaehyun is fiddling with his phone with a dark look on his face.

“You should put that in the items bin. You’re gonna break it if you bring it on the ride, silly!”

Jaehyun’s mouth turns down in a cute frown. “I know, I will! Just can’t figure out the damn settings on this thing.”

“Want me to try?” Taeyong reaches out for it.

Jaehyun wrenches the phone away and hands it to the worker. Taeyong sits back in surprise. Jaehyun squeezes his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I can figure it out on my own.” Taeyong decides not to question him as the ride creaks forward, butterflies squirming in his stomach as they slowly climb vertically. 

He gulps a bit, drawing Jaehyun’s attention. “You scared?” Jaehyun teases lightly.

“...Maybe a bit.”

Jaehyun holds out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

Taeyong places his hand in the waiting one with a slight smile. “With my life.” He says lightly, giggling a bit as the ride takes off. 

It’s exhilarating, the dips and turns and loops making Taeyong’s head spin. The rush of air on his face feels incredible, as does the feeling of Jaehyun’s hand tightening in his.

The roller coaster takes them high above some other parts of the park, giving them a pretty view of the other attractions. It comes to an abrupt halt at the end, jarring them forward in their seats. Taeyong rubs at his neck as the coaster slowly makes its way back to the station. He helps unbuckle Jaehyun from the seat and pulls him out.

“That was so fun!”

Jaehyun looks a bit sick. “I think I blacked out.”

Taeyong laughs and pushes at his shoulder, but it takes Jaehyun a few seconds to laugh along.

“You sure you aren’t concussed?” Taeyong’s voice dips into concern territory, gently rapping his knuckles against Jaehyun’s temple, which is really the opposite of what you should do to someone you think may have a concussion.

Jaehyun pushes him off with a fond giggle and goes to grab their bags from the bin, following the rest of the group to the exit ramp. When they get to the bottom, Taeyong leads them slightly away from the mouth of the ride.

“Okay everyone, count off!” he claps his hands. “I’ll start. One!” He waits as each boy shouts out a number. They only make it up to sixteen before the group falls silent.

Yuta pipes up from the back. “Taeyong’s gonna have a goddamn stroke if he doesn’t make us do a head count every three seconds, huh?”

Taeyong huffs. Why can’t Yuta just behave? “Can you stop telling me how to do my job? I’m supposed to keep you guys safe. Now can we count off again, _ properly _ this time?” he levels a glare at Yuta.

“Play nice, Yuta.” Sicheng links his hand with Yuta’s, which seems to bring the other boy back to earth a little bit. They count off again, but still only get to seventeen, even with Yuta’s reluctant contribution.

“Who are we missing?” Taeyong asks, mouth twisting into a frown.

“You counted yourself, right?” Doyoung says.

“Yeah, I did...Oh, where’s Lucas?”

No one says anything for a few moments, looking between themselves for someone with an answer. Suddenly, Jaehyun snaps his fingers. “Oh! I totally forgot. He told me he was going to the bathroom.”

“Wait, really? When?” Taeyong says. Jaehyun had been with him the whole time, and Taeyong didn’t even remember seeing Lucas get off the ride. Granted, there are eighteen of them. As much of a motherly figure as Taeyong is, he can’t actually have eyes on the back of his head.

“He mentioned that to me too.” Renjun raises his hand timidly. He, too, looks a little nauseous. “Neither of us were feeling too well after the ride, but he was really sick. He told me he’d meet up with us later.” Donghyuck slips his hand into Renjun’s, squeezing it gently.

“Should we wait for him?” Jungwoo asks, casting a nervous glance to the bathrooms, the closest of which were all the way back by the park entrance.

“Nah, he’s a grown ass man. He can find us, or we can text him.” Yuta says, already starting to move. He stops when he sees Taeyong rooted to the spot. “Look, we already went over all the meeting spots, right? He’s fine. Right, Jungwoo? He’s plenty capable.”

Jungwoo shifts nervously at being put on the spot, likely remembering the time Lucas nearly set the house on fire because he tried to make ramen noodles and forgot to add any water before putting it into the microwave. “That’s true...”

“See? Stop babying us, man.”

Taeyong bites his nail. Yuta has a point. He doesn’t want to be dramatic and overbearing on one of their precious days off, or cost the kids time meant for enjoying the rides...but he can’t help but worry still.

It’s probably nothing.

_ CONTINUE?_

_→ [Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744427)_

_ TURN BACK? _

_ → [Chapter 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744640)_


	2. two.

_ HELP YUTA _

_ → Selected! _

“_Fuck!” _ Taeyong spits, throwing himself into the fray. 

Doyoung has his fingers clamped around Yuta’s throat again, knuckles turning white as he squeezes. Yuta’s foot connects with Doyoung’s chest, but it’s not enough to shake him off. The cart creaks and cries the more they struggle, swinging in the wind at the very peak of the climb.

“Stop it! Stop! Doyoung, let _ go!” _ Taeyong wails, trying to pry Doyoung’s fingers away. His nails dig deeper and deeper into the boy’s arm as he resists their efforts. Yuta thrashes in the tight grip, fists flying weakly as the light drains from his eyes.

Taeyong finally rips Doyoung away, shoving him sharply into the back of the seat. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” He shrieks, wrenching Doyoung’s arms behind his back and pinning him to the safety railing.

Yuta is somewhere behind Taeyong, probably catching his breath. The gondola isn’t that big, but Taeyong has other issues to attend to. For example, Doyoung is struggling to get to his feet while restrained, blood gushing from his face and legs shivering uncontrollably.

“Y-You don’t understand!” Doyoung whines, blood and spit garbling his voice, “He-- H-He-- You have to believe me, you h-have--” He dissolves into incomprehensible sobbing, unadulterated terror reflected in his eyes.

Taeyong has never seen anything like it.

Taeyong lifts his hands away, startled. It feels like the blood in his veins has stopped flowing, like the Earth has stopped turning, like everything he knew about the world was wrong. This is _ nothing _ like the cool-headed Doyoung he’s used to. “Hey, hey, calm down. Whatever that was about I’m sure we can...we can work it out.”

Doyoung curls in on himself, shoulders shaking violently. He’s bitten clean through his lip, blood dribbling down his chin. He lifts one trembling finger to point just beyond Taeyong’s left shoulder.

Taeyong takes the bait, turning around only to see that Yuta has vanished. Heart pounding out of his chest, he whips back around to catch Yuta lunging at Doyoung. He takes a fistful of Doyoung’s shirt in his unforgiving grasp, shaking him back and forth.

Each time, Doyoung gets a little closer to the edge.

“Yuta, stop…” Taeyong’s eyes are round with horror, salty tears pouring down his cheeks. Doyoung is limp, muttering nonsense to himself as he’s jerked back and forth. Taeyong swallows past the lump in his throat, screaming for all he’s worth. _ “Yuta!” _

Taeyong barely recognizes either of the people in front of him.

He springs at the two, shoving Yuta harshly in hopes of getting him to release Doyoung. It works. Yuta grunts from the hit, choking on his breath as he hurls Doyoung away with a cry. At the same time, the cart drops sharply downwards.

Doyoung topples over the edge.

“_DOYOUNG!” _ Taeyong howls to the high heavens, nearly pitching himself off the edge after the boy. His palms are slick with sweat, barely keeping him from tumbling from the cart as he leans over as far as he can, desperately hoping to see Doyoung clinging to one of the support beams.

_ Thud. _

He doesn’t see anything.

“Doyoung! Doyoung! Oh God Doie please n-no, please, not my Doie…” Taeyong crumbles onto the floor, burying his face in his hands. He feels like his heart was just ripped out of his chest, left to bleed his sins to the rest of the world.

Yuta doesn’t say a word as they descend, the sharp change of the Ferris wheel’s lights jolting him in his seat.

The gondola finally creaks to a halt in the loading dock. Taeyong doesn’t bother to wipe the flecks of blood off his face as he stumbles out, gasping for breath under the harsh lights of the amusement park ride.

_ I failed. I failed. I failed. _

“Taeyong? T-Taeyong, what did you see?” Taeil rushes to his side. Taeyong pushes right past him, mind set on one thing and one thing only.

_ Doyoung. _

Taeyong roughly shoves aside anyone who tries to hold him back as he staggers around to the back of the ride, underneath the side Doyoung fell from.

“Oh, God…” Taeyong collapses to his knees, pressing his forehead into the gritty dirt as he screams. “_Doyoung!” _

Doyoung is laying with his cheek pressed to the ground, his neck crooked at an unnatural angle. His legs look to have crumpled beneath him, bones sticking out where bones are not meant to go. The tear tracks staining his face are still fresh, the blood matted in his hair unmistakable. His mouth is hanging half open, eyes glassy and vacant.

“H-He’s...He’s…” Kun whispers, crouching next to the body. He looks utterly wrecked. “He’s gone…”

“How did this happen?!” Mark cries, tugging at his hair. “What the _ fuck _ happened up there?”

Taeyong heaves himself into a sitting position, feeling like the weight of the world has crashed upon his shoulders. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly. What _ did _ happen? “I…”

“He tried to kill me.” Yuta says.

Taeyong whips his head to the other boy, jaw dropping in shock. Yuta is standing towards the back of the group, gaze trained firmly on the ground. He looks sickly, eyes bloodshot and skin pasty, bloodied hands trembling by his sides. His voice remains monotonous. “He attacked me, and then fell off the edge.”

“That’s-- that’s not what I--” Taeyong tries to say, but he’s cut off with a very sharp look from Yuta.

“He fell.” Yuta reiterates firmly, voice leaving no room for argument. He...he looks like he’s telling the truth. Or, as much of the truth as he knows.

Caught off guard and absorbed in grieving, Taeyong falls silent.

For now.

Johnny has extracted himself from the booth, running to their side. Taeyong looks back; the whole group has gathered in horror. Jaehyun rubs his back silently, and Taeyong leans into the comforting touch for just a few minutes until he comes back to Earth. Quickly, he motions for Jaehyun to take the kids away from the hellish scene.

Johnny looks panicked, eyes roaming the scene. “How did this-- how-- I don’t understand--”

“_You _! Why didn’t you bring us down faster?!” Taeyong snaps. Johnny takes a big step back, eyes widening as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t hear you from inside the booth, and even then I didn’t know how to speed the thing up. I don’t think you can do that.”

Jungwoo mumbles brokenly into Lucas’s shoulder, the larger boy twisting to shield him from the harsh world.

“What?” Jaemin prods gently at Jungwoo.

“I could’ve helped!” Jungwoo tears his face out of Lucas’s jacket, nearly hyperventilating as tears cascade down his face. His brows are drawn together, anger simmering just below his skin. “I could’ve helped if any of you had any _ fucking _ faith in me! Or Lucas! Because we’re _ never _ going to get anywhere without trust, and maybe now that we’ve had someone so fucking horribly ripped away from us, you will experience a little bit of compassion for the first fucking time in your shitty lives.” Jungwoo storms off with Lucas in tow, leaving shocked silence in his wake.

“Jungwoo…” Taeyong scrambles to his feet. He can barely think clearly, but this is not the time nor place to lose his head. He’s still got seve-- _ sixteen _ people depending on him.

_ For Doyoung. _

“Okay, we need to move.” His head is swimming, seeing nothing but Doyoung Doyoung _ Doyoung _ in front of him, lurking in the corners of his vision. “Let’s...let’s find a lodge or somewhere to camp out so we can figure out what to do next.” No one protests as he moves the group forward. Jeno lays his jacket over Doyoung’s body.

They catch up to Jungwoo and Lucas, who luckily haven’t gotten far. Jungwoo is sobbing in his boyfriend’s arms, inconsolable.

Taeyong thinks Jisung and Mark have found a place to hide out, but it feels like his ears are plugged with cotton, the ground swaying beneath his feet.

_ I failed. _

“How are you doing?” A soft hand slips into Taeyong’s.

“Jae.” He breathes, basking in the warmth that crashes over him. “Hi.”

The crinkles around Jaehyun’s eyes deepen as his brows furrow in concern. “Are you...okay?”

Taeyong truly doesn’t know how to answer, mouth dry and throat clogged. He shrugs vaguely. He knows he can let down his guard for Jaehyun, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to be more vulnerable than he already is right now.

They trudge on, Taeyong nuzzling closer and closer to Jaehyun’s side as they approach the lodge.

It’s a small cabin, nestled in the middle of a wooded, witch themed area of the park. They pass a winding roller coaster called the Boil, Bubble, Toil and Trouble, ducking underneath plastic spiders and strange fibers to get into the shelter. Despite being cramped and rather shoddy, the inside is well lit and has some benches and tables to rest on, along with some vending machines and a shuttered up snack bar towards the back. A sign on the front directs bathroom-seekers around the back of the cabin.

A flash goes off somewhere beside Taeyong. Disoriented, his eyes dart around just in time to catch Jaehyun closing out of an app and pocketing his phone. Something uneasy slithers into his heart. He could have sworn that was a picture of Ten that Jaehyun just took, startled red eyes staring the camera down.

Taeyong worries at his lip, unsure if confronting Jaehyun about it is a good idea or not. The pounding in his head demands his attention, as do the hordes of grieving boys he’s struggling to shepherd into the safe space.

In the end, the issue fades into obscurity. They have more important things to worry about than Jaehyun snapping pictures of them. He’s probably just trying to keep track of their surroundings in case in the police need anything for their reports. When they escape.

Taeyong vehemently ignores the nagging voice in the back of his head that screams _ if _.

Taeyong gets mostly everyone settled down, chewing on his lip as he tries to figure out what to do next. Plan. They need a plan, something to keep them all sane. They need to feel like they’re making progress. Lost in thought, he barely spots Yuta straying away from the group. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.” Yuta doesn’t meet his eyes.

Anxiety pools in Taeyong’s stomach. “Take someone with you.”

Yuta scoffs. “I’m not a child, I’ll go by myself if I want to.”

Taeyong clenches his fist to restrain himself from letting his emotions boil over. Luckily, Jisung pipes up from where he’s draped over Chenle. “I can go.”

In the end, Yuta, Jisung, Sicheng, Kun, Mark, Jaehyun, and Donghyuck all leave for the bathroom. Jungwoo refuses to speak to anyone other than Lucas and Taeyong.

“I’m scared.” Chenle traces patterns into the splintery wood tabletop. He’s laying half on the table, cheek pressed to his arm despondently. He rubs his cute little keychain for comfort, the glass embedded in it slowly becoming clouded with fingerprints. Taeyong’s heart clenches.

“Don’t be scared, baby. We’ll be okay.” He holds Chenle close until the boy’s breathing evens out.

_ We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. _

Taeyong stares out the tiny window, into the deep night. Doyoung is back there, rotting into the ground.

_ I failed. _

Taeyong smacks himself on the forehead. This is not the time. He has to think.

“What did you see?” Renjun sits down next to him, folding his legs delicately. “There was a reason to go up there, after all. Did you find anything useful?”

Taeyong fiddles with the hem of his shirt. _ Did _ he find anything useful? He must have, or else Doyoung’s…sacrifice...would be in vain. He tries to recall the desperate mission, ignoring the feeling of his world shattering beneath his feet once he turned around.

_ We saw blood. _

“Oh, yeah!” Taeyong snaps his fingers, eyes alight with discovery. “I didn’t find an alternate exit, but I saw something that was...pretty weird. Let’s get everyone together.”

With Renjun’s help, they manage to get everyone remaining in the lodge alert and into one space. Taeyong takes a deep breath, directing his words to Johnny.

After all, he’s their last eyewitness.

“I saw the front gates from the top of the Ferris wheel.” He starts, noting the indifference on Johnny’s face. “There was a gate, yes, but I didn’t see _ anything _ in the parking lot. No blood, no smashed cars-- no cars at all, actually.”

Johnny’s mouth drops open. “What? But I-- but I know what I saw!”

“And I know what _ I _ saw.” Taeyong refutes, but Taeil looks conflicted. His eyes dart around as if waiting for someone to speak first, but he soon bites the bullet.

“Yongie, the Ferris Wheel was really high up and pretty far from the front of the park. You’re sure you can make such a confident claim?”

Taeyong groans. “I get it, it’s not as good as investigating in person. But I swear to you, if there were any cars or debris in that parking lot, I would’ve seen it from up there. I think it’s worth checking out the front gates for ourselves.”

Jaemin rocks back and forth on his heels, skeptical. “Yuta must have seen the same thing, right? We can ask him when he gets back.”

_ Yuta would argue that the sky isn’t blue just to spite me. _ Taeyong throws on a halfhearted smile. “Good idea.”

They wait for the rest of the group to return before making any decisions. Taeyong spends the time playing around with the dreamies to brighten their spirits a little. Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin tire quickly, retreating to a corner to form a cuddle pile. Taeyong _ thinks _ Renjun goes willingly.

Taeyong decides to get some fresh air, wandering around the back porch of the little lodge.

A dim light flashes in Taeyong’s peripheral. He moves towards it, fingertips skimming over the front of Jaehyun’s phone. He knows he probably shouldn’t touch it, but he can’t help but be curious. The display looks fine, which is curious considering everyone else’s phones got fried... 

It’s pretty dark since his phone background is a black screen, not the cute selfie of him and Jaehyun on a picnic date in the park. They had gotten ice cream before pitching the blanket, and Jaehyun had scooped a dollop onto Taeyong’s nose, kissing it off afterwards.

Taeyong misses the photo, but understands that Jaehyun just got the new phone, so he probably didn’t have a chance to reset the lock screen. Maybe the new software is why his phone works as well? He resolves to ask him about it when the group returns.

The camera app is open.

The wood floor creaks near the front of the cabin. Taeyong turns to see several figures shuffle in, shaking their hands to dispel the water off them. He moves towards them, recognizing Yuta to be at the front of the pack. 

Naturally.

“Yuta, I need to know what you saw up…” Taeyong trails off as his heart drops into his stomach. He quickly counts the heads in front of him.

_ One, two, three, four, five, six. _

“You’re not going to make us do fucking role call again, right? I’ve had _ enough _ of how you t--”

“Shut the _ fuck _up, Yuta!” Taeyong snaps, breathing heavily as he counts, and recounts, and recounts.

_ Six? Weren’t there more? Fuck, fuck, how many people left? _

Icy claws of fear close around his throat as a name pops into his mind.

_ Jisung. _

Taeyong is out the door before he even registers what’s happening, feet pounding on the soft Earth as only one phrase reverbates around his skull.

_ I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose them. _

“Fucking chill, Taeyong! He’s probably still in the bathroom!” Yuta is sprinting after him, but Taeyong has a one track mind. He knows that ge’s probably okay, but uncertainty isn’t something he can afford right now. Nothing will calm the sheer terror broiling in his gut. He slams the door open, shouting.

Last time they separated for a bathroom trip, Lucas was fucking possessed and nearly committed murder. Taeyong can’t shake the feeling that this time might be more sinister.

“Jisung!” He pants, bracing himself against the doorframe.

All four stall doors are hanging wide open, not a soul in sight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taeyong turns on his heel, crashing into Yuta on his way out. If Jisung had left the bathroom to rejoin the group, he would have run into him by now.

Something is wrong.

Taeyong hesitates in his steps, unsure where to check next. He could check around the roller coaster, but there’s not many places out of view from where he’s standing. If Jisung was over there, he’d know.

There’s a few benches and tables shrouded by trees over by the designated smoking area, and up ahead lies a large scale ride with long swings dangling from the circus-like top.

The smoking area seems like the quickest to rule out, so he makes a mad dash for it, shoving branches and leaves out of his way as he goes. The smoking area is desolate, not even a stale footprint on the ground.

No dice.

Taeyong knows he should be keeping track of where everyone else is, but he can’t stop freaking out about his missing duckling. He knows something is wrong.

His worst fears are confirmed when his feet hit the gravel beneath the swings ride, his heart unable to bear another beat.

Jisung is tangled up in the metal chains of a swing. It wraps around his neck, crossing over his chest and twisting around his wrist, stringing his arms up like some ungodly scarecrow. His skin is purpled and bruised where the chains cut into him. He’s limp and unresponsive no matter how much Taeyong shakes him, begs him, _ pleads _ for him to wake up.

“Sungie, baby, oh-- oh God my b-baby, what happened to you?” Taeyong chokes out between his sobs, vision blurring with both tears and dizziness. He feels like he’s living in a cruel simulation as he crawls over to where Jisung swings lazily, the gravel digging into his knees. 

He can’t feel it.

“This must be a joke. This can’t-- this can’t be real, it can’t--” He lays a delicate hand on Jisung’s cold cheek, his own tears dripping onto the boy’s face makes him look alive for a moment.

One precious, fleeting moment.

Taeyong can feel himself ripping apart at the seams. This can’t be an accident. Doyoung...He doesn’t know what happened with Doyoung, but this?

He can’t brush this one off.

The rest of the team find them via Taeyong’s unholy screams. They are met with a gruesome scene-- Taeyong sobbing with his head pressed into Jisung’s unmoving chest, hand squeezing Jisung’s cold one as if sheer force alone would bring him back. Taeyong begs the gods to not take his youngest little duckling away from him, one of the kids he’d raised and loved and cared for as if he was his own child.

Jisung, eyes blown open and glazed over, forever trapped in a choked off scream, windpipe crushed under the rusty metal.

“I don’t understand…” Chenle cries, clutching on to Renjun with the little strength remaining in his lithe body. “He was only gone for a moment!”

None of them have any answers. Without saying it out loud, they all understand that Jisung could never have done this to himself. Not only would he never do something like this, but the position he’s in is just..._ unnatural. _

Either they have a killer on the loose, or a traitor in their midst.

_ Yuta grunts from the hit, choking on his breath as he hurls Doyoung away with a cry. _

It doesn’t take Taeyong long to leap to a conclusion. Even with his mind clouded with grief and his heart being torn out of his chest scrap by fucking scrap, he knows that there’s only one reasonable explanation here.

“Yuta.” Taeyong whispers into Jisung’s jacket, voice dangerously low.

“H-Huh?” Yuta is crouched near the edge of the swings, head buried in his hands as tears drip onto the darkening rocks below him. He raises his head, puffy red eyes exposed to the world. Everyone knows how much he treasured their youngest, how fiercely he protected the boy, but none of that is what makes Taeyong falter on his next words.

“You-- You did this, Yuta! You k-killed Jisungie!” Taeyong roars. He doesn’t spare himself the time to feel conflicted, utterly blinded by rage and grief as he throws himself at Yuta.

“Stop it, Taeyong!” Someone catches his arms behind his back, but not before he lands a nice sized bruise on Yuta’s cheek. 

Yuta doesn’t retaliate.

Taeyong’s muscles jerk painfully as he’s restrained, thrashing and screaming his lungs out. “Calm down, Yongie, calm down.” The deep voice hushes him, and Taeyong quiets in the strong grip as he recognizes the voice to belong to Jaehyun.

“You don’t understand.” Taeyong moans as the group falls silent. Yuta is cowering in Johnny’s arms, reddening cheek pressed into the taller man’s chest.

He looks terrified, and a flicker of uncertainty creeps into Taeyong’s stomach.

“This wasn’t an accident.” Taeyong chokes. Everyone around him flinches, gaze straying towards Jisung’s...corpse. It’s clear as day that foul play was involved, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

Saying it out loud makes it real.

“Yuta killed Jisung, and he killed Doyoung too.” Taeyong’s voice wavers, but it’s easily drowned out as the group erupts, angry words and accusations flying everywhere.

“How the _ fuck _ can you say that, huh?!” Johnny snarls, shoving at Taeyong. “We’ve known Yuta for _ years, _ how could you just baselessly accuse him of something like that?”

Johnny has always been quite protective of them. Taeyong wonders why that doesn’t extend to him right now.

“It’s not baseless.” Taeyong protests even as he feels his chest come apart at the thought of blaming one of his precious brothers with _ murder _ . It doesn’t feel right, but he can’t ignore the facts. “Think-- _ Think _ about it, for just a second. There’s practically no one else in this park, yeah? So it’s gotta b-be one of us.” He winces, swallowing his sobs as he continues. “I was up there, with Yuta and Doyoung. I saw Yuta push Doyoung over the edge.”

Taeyong doesn’t stop, even as Yuta howls like he’s being tortured, throwing out pleas for everyone to believe him that _ that isn’t how it happened, please I could never, I would never do anything like that I-- _

“Yuta was one of the ones who went on the bathroom trip! He was involved there too! He could have...he could have…”

“That’s impossible!” Yuta’s eyes are bugging out of his head, sparkling with tears and...hurt. “I was in the bathroom the whole time! There were four stalls, and I took one of them. I don’t know who was in line, but I was never alone with Jisung!” Yuta dissolves into tears, all his snark and barbed wire walls crumbling away from him. “And Doie, oh, Doie...He fell. I don’t know what you saw, and I don’t-- I can’t remember much, but I know he fell.”

Yuta slowly pulls out of Johnny’s arms, fists shaking by his side as he tries to stand strong. “I don’t know what you think I’m capable of, but never in my right mind would I _ ever _ hurt either of them. I would never hurt anyone.”

And the worst part is, Taeyong doesn’t doubt him.

However, the cards are stacked against him, and Taeyong can’t just back down after an explosion like this. He needs to keep the rest of his babies, safe, no matter what it takes.

He might not be able to save everyone, but goddamn he can try.

“You need to go.”

“What?!” Yuta presses a hand to his mouth, sorrow thickening his voice. “You can’t-- you can’t be serious. You really have such little faith in me?” 

_ That’s how it’s always been throughout the years-- that’s how Taeyong has kept the peace. Trust, honesty, and communication. Always. _

Taeyong can’t bring himself to respond, a lump forming in his throat. Jaehyun squeezes his hand, running gentle fingers up and down his arm.

Yuta barks out a hysterical laugh, searching for someone, anyone to back him up. “Come on, he’s clearly unstable. Can’t any of you see that?”

“I’m with Taeyong.” Lucas stands suddenly, ignoring the way the group shies away from him as he makes his way to Taeyong’s side.

“L-Lucas?”

Lucas holds his gaze, steady and firm. “You took a chance with me. I’d trust you with my life.”

Taeyong’s round eyes flicker to the slim frame beside Lucas. Jungwoo gives him a stern nod, setting his jaw before staring down the rest of the boys.

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Ten spits. “You know who else was involved with both of these incidents? _ You. _ Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak off back at the lodge! How are we supposed to just...just _ take your word _ that someone we’ve known for years is some ruthless murderer? I’m not fucking buying it.”

“Trust me.” Taeyong implores him, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, cheeks wet and vision blurred with tears. 

“I’m done trusting you.” Ten chuckles dryly. “You’ve made too many shitty, _ thoughtless _ decisions. In fact I don’t think you care about us at all.” He sneers at Lucas and Jungwoo, stepping over to where Yuta is trembling. His eyes are alight with a fire Taeyong has never seen before. “If Yuta goes, I go.”

Each word strikes a new arrow into Taeyong’s heart, shattering him.

This is bad. This is really, really bad. They can’t be splitting off like this, not with a potential...dangerous person around.

A suspect.

Taeyong curls into himself, the vices around his chest tightening as he searches for who will stay with him, and who will go. He never thought he’d be putting his brothers’ loyalties to the test.

Chenle grips onto his hand, which isn’t a huge surprise. Chenle idolizes him, as do many of the dreamies, but that doesn’t stop Jeno and Jaemin from hesitating between the two groups. They eventually gravitate towards Taeyong, but Taeyong can’t ignore the pain pulsing in his heart.

“I don’t know what you saw up there, Yong, but I know what _ I _ saw by those gates. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe your story.” Johnny’s brows are knit tightly together, stress deepening the lines in his forehead. Taeyong doesn’t begrudge him in the slightest.

In the end, Ten, Johnny, Kun, and Sicheng side with Yuta. Jeno, Jaemin, Donghyuck, Renjun, Mark, Chenle, Taeil, Lucas, and Jungwoo stick by Taeyong.

There’s someone missing.

Taeyong stumbles on weak legs as he turns to Jaehyun, mouth hanging open slightly at his boyfriend’s indecision. Jaehyun looks pale and unstable, a haze in his eyes. Taeyong thinks he catches a brief glimmer of guilt behind the boy’s face before he inches closer to Taeyong, taking his other hand.

His palms are clammy and cold.

“This is ridiculous.” Taeil pipes up, authority hardening his voice. His seniority wins over his small frame, making the young man seem as if he’s looming over the others. “No one is splitting up.”

“It’s not our fault Taeyong is kicking us out.” Ten folds his arms.

“That’s _ not _ what I wanted, I’m just trying to keep everyone sa--”

“You wanted to keep everyone _ safe_, huh?!” Ten’s voice takes on a mocking lilt as he steps forward. He nods towards Jisung’s body. “And how’d that go for you?”

Frost creeps over Taeyong’s organs, hardening around his heart. “How fucking _ dare _ y--”

“Stop it!” Chenle shrieks. His chest heaves as everyone slowly turns to him. In the midst of all the chaos, they forgot that he’d be hurting the worst. He squeezes his eyes shut, rallying his courage before he addresses the whole group. “Sungie was..._ is _ my best friend. I don’t want to believe what I’m looking at, I can’t-- I can’t believe it right now.” Chenle clutches a little harder at Renjun’s hand, defiantly wiping the tears from his face even though they don’t stop gushing. It’s like trying to shovel in a snowstorm, but Taeyong won’t dare interrupt him.

“I won’t-- won’t lie, it feels like I’m in some sick nightmare and all I want is to wake up. I don’t want it to be true. Not just the fact that we’ve l-lost-- lost people,” He grits his teeth, “But that we’re letting it tear us apart so easily! I don’t want to face this any more than you do, but we should still approach it with a clear head and stop _ fucking _ pretending like we know all the facts when _ everyone knows we don’t! _ It’s disrespectful to Doyoung, it’s disrespectful to J-Jisung, and it’s just plain _ stupid.” _

Taeyong is left reeling as Chenle marches up to Jisung and lays on the ground next to his swing. He burrows into his thin jacket, grasping Jisung’s dangling hand. “I don’t care where, but all of you should sleep. We’ll work this out in the morning.”

Chenle crumples into sobs, shoulders shaking even as he hides himself from the rest of the group. He clings onto Jisung as if he’s Chenle’s last hope, his lifeline. Renjun follows him, snuggling into his side.

Chenle’s little keychain glints in the moonlight as he clutches it in his other hand.

“You’re strong, Lele. Stronger than any of us.” Renjun mumbles into Chenle’s shoulder. The rest of the dreamies wrap themselves around each other, remaining as seven for one last night.

“When did he get so wise?” Taeyong croaks without a shiver of a smile on his lips. His eyes are dead, empty. He collapses where he stands, breath being squeezed painfully from his lungs. 

The kid is right. Taeyong tips his chin up, making eye contact with the moon hung right above his head. They need to cool off and handle things in the morning. Yuta’s group keeps their distance, but set up camp well within sight of Taeyong.

Jaehyun sits a few feet away from Taeyong, idly sliding his finger back and forth on his phone. Taeyong doesn’t have the energy to confront him about what he’s doing-- not even when he swears he catches Yuta’s pale face staring at him from Jaehyun’s dim screen.

Taeyong doesn’t dare to shut his eyes until everyone else has dropped off to sleep, including the…’other’ team. He was harsh with Yuta, but that doesn’t mean he wants to throw them all to the wolves. Shame crawls into his gut at the thought of him misjudging the situation, but he had to make a decision somewhere.

He had to.

When he can’t spot any more motion from around the ride-- well, Yuta seems to be shaking, but he’s quiet otherwise-- he hesitantly allows his eyelids to droop shut, drowning him in a fitful slumber.

He dreams of happier times, before vipers wound around his heart and lungs, detailing his failures and preying on his grief. He dreams of the summer sun, bright smiles and twinkling eyes, of running freely through the sand, of light hearts and lighter feet.

It shatters before long, a piercing scream reverberating around his eardrums.

“_Kun _ ?!” Taeyong is on his feet before he knows it, scrambling towards the sound. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, nothing to lead him but the dread clogging his lungs and the memory of the scream in his heart. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t see, he can’t _ breathe. _ A wrecked sob barely makes it out of Taeyong’s aching throat as he stumbles onto the scene. 

He’s just in time to witness Yuta looming over four bloodied bodies, a sharpened stick falling out of his slack hand with a wet thunk as he turns toward Taeyong with terrified eyes.

  


_ COMFORT? _

_ [→ Chapter 41](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745183) _

_ RESTRAIN? _

_ [→ Chapter 31](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745000) _

_ DEFEND? _

_ [→ Chapter 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744526) _

  
  



	3. three.

_TRUST THE GROUP_

_ → Selected! _

“Jungwoo, move back.” Taeyong says as calmly as he can, positioning himself in between Lucas and the others. He pries Lucas’s death grip from around Jungwoo’s thin wrists. Lucas’s face falls as he scrambles towards the other boy again.

“No! Jungwoo-- _ Taeyong _! You have to believe me!” Lucas begs and pleads but it all falls on deaf ears. “Y-You can’t seriously…”

“I’m sorry, Lucas.” Taeyong breathes out, eyes darting to the body and back, “but this isn’t-- _ you _ aren’t safe right now.” 

_ I can’t put the rest of them in danger. _

Lucas is burying his face in his hands, curled up in the dirt. He’s sobbing. Taeyong’s heart squeezes, but the uneasy feeling in his stomach remains. This is his brother, yes, and he will do anything to ensure his safety. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be held accountable for fucking murdering another person. Taeyong’s skin crawls just thinking about it.

Taeyong nervously shushes the hysterical boy as he steals a peek at the rest of the group. Yuta has successfully gathered everyone far away from the scene, herding them off to a little eating area just barely in sight. Taeyong watches carefully as Jungwoo makes it back to the big group. He keeps throwing worried glances over his shoulder until Taeil’s hand pulls him in, the other members absorbing him so he’s out of sight of Lucas. He’s safe now.

Taeyong sighs heavily and re-focuses his attention on the wreck of a situation in front of him. He digs his cell phone out of his pocket and waits for it to warm up as his breath fogs in the chilly air.

“Are you going to call the police?” Lucas asks quietly, hands still covering his face. There’s no malice in his voice, but it shakes Taeyong to the core anyways.

“I...I have to.” He bites his tongue before the apology can slip through his lips. He doesn’t need to apologize for calling the cops on a murderer. Surely Lucas can’t expect them to trust him after seeing _ that? _

Lucas nods solemnly. “Okay.”

Taeyong bites his lip. The bright boy, full of sunshine and smiles and sometimes greasy winks, he did this? The boy who practically did nothing for a year other than pine after Jungwoo and bake him a surprise platter of cookies at two in the morning under the guise of being ‘bored’ when really he knew that’s what Jungwoo was craving, he did this? The boy that used to spend his time volunteering at soup kitchens and had a habit of bringing back random stray birds to the dorm to nurse them back to health, he did this?

He did this?

Even as Taeyong’s trembling fingers press the numbers into the emergency number pad on his phone, he feels like something isn’t quite right. With a quick shake of his head to clear his muddled mind, he presses the green call button, craning his neck back to do a quick head count of the group. They’re all there, but something is wrong.

There’s no sound coming from the other end of the phone.

“The call isn’t going through…?” Taeyong cocks his head at his screen, puzzled. His eyes travel up to the top of the screen, where the low battery symbol flashes along with the little exclamation point that indicates no cell service. Oh, fuck.

Lucas doesn’t move. Taeyong looks back at the group again. Jaehyun is staring right back at him, waiting to meet his eyes. Taeyong should probably regroup with the others and try one of their phones, but they can’t just leave Lucas here unsupervised, right? He jerks his chin at Jaehyun, motioning for him to come over. Jaehyun trots over obligingly, blowing air out of his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” Jaehyun asks, staring at the scene. Taeyong sighs.

“That’s just it-- I don’t know. I was going to call the police, but I don’t have any connection out here. Strange, I would’ve figured one of us would have noticed that by now.”

“We should head back to the others. We can ask everyone else to help with calls, maybe someone can get through. Also...the kids really need some comforting.” Jaehyun rubs at his chin in worry. 

“We can’t leave him though.” Taeyong gestures at the boy on the ground.

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong a few feet away, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “We should restrain him. Tie him up, or something. He can’t go anywhere until the police come, and we can make sure we don’t lose track of him.”

As much as Taeyong wants to protest against that kind of treatment, he knows they can’t afford to take the risk of trusting Lucas to roam free. With a sinking heart, he nods. Jaehyun ducks into a nearby game booth to dig out some of the rope used to hang up the plush prizes. Taeyong throws a nervous glance at the blood splatters on the ground. He leans over to catch Jaehyun’s hand in his.

“Hey,” He mumbles, searching for comfort in Jaehyun’s eyes, “I love you.” Jaehyun’s face softens, pulling him close. His breath ghosts over Taeyong’s ear.

“Love you too.”

Lucas doesn’t protest when they bind his wrists. He doesn’t shout when they tie up his ankles, or sob when they secure his torso to a nearby lamppost. It’s only when Jaehyun and Taeyong start to move away that he starts to scream, fear lighting in his wild eyes.

“Please-- please don’t leave me! I’ll be good. I’ll be good I won’t hurt anyone, I could never hurt anyone please please _ please please please oh god oh god you don’t understand--” _ Lucas cuts himself off with an otherworldly sounding scream, his skin pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.

Taeyong knows that Lucas has just done a horrific thing. There’s no getting around it. But he knows the poor boy is still just as scared as the rest of them.

“I’m so sorry.” Taeyong dips his head to him before they turn away. “Rest. We won’t be gone for long.”

Jaehyun thumbs at the tear tracks streaking down Taeyong’s cheeks as they rejoin the group. They had agreed to leave the scene exactly how they found it in order to not tamper with the evidence for the police investigation.

“W-What happened?” Jisung asks with wide eyes. He’s cradled between Mark and Johnny, chest rising and falling shallowly. Poor Chenle doesn’t seem to be doing much better, a death grip on Kun’s hand and his face buried in Renjun’s neck.

“Don’t worry about Lucas right now. He’s contained, and we’re safe. However, I need you all to try to call the police-- I can’t get any service out here.” Taeyong addresses the group. Everyone obediently looks down at their phones and starts pressing buttons. 

Ten is the first one to look up with a scowl. “No dice.” Taeyong groans as more and more negative results flood back. He peers down at his own screen, jolting in surprise as it flickers and goes black. Shouts of dismay from the group indicate that their phones are doing the same thing. The black screen wavers for a few seconds, thin white lines running up and down it, before thick blocks of glitchy color flash. The devices begin to let out a high pitched whine. Taeyong clamps his hands over his ears, wincing.

“Stop!” Yuta screeches. “Make it _ stop!” _

And with that, all the phones go dead. 

Shocked, Jeno prods at his home button a few times. “This doesn’t make any sense, my phone was fully charged!” Jaemin and Donghyuck nod, equally confused.

Taeyong rubs at his forehead. “I...I don’t know what that was, but don’t worry. Let’s just leave and flag someone down who can call the police for us. Before we go, does anyone need to use the bathroom? Doyoung, can you lead a trip? I don’t want anyone going by themselves.”

Doyoung gives him a two fingered salute in acknowledgement, but a mocking voice floats up from the back of the group. “There he goes again.” Yuta rolls his eyes condescendingly. “Do any of you wittle-bittle babies need to go potty before we leave boo-hoo-hoo...Ha!” He scoffs. “We just witnessed a fucking murder, Taeyong. You can drop the responsible sheltering parent act.”

Taeyong pushes down his inner seething, feeling his blood pressure rise just hearing Yuta talk. Choosing to ignore the jab, he waves a hand and Doyoung marches off with about half the group, most of them probably just needing to take a walk and expend a little nervous energy. That’s really why Taeyong suggested it, anyways.

And, finally. As the group parts, Taeyong’s eyes land on the person he’s been meaning to talk to. He walks over to him carefully, crouching quietly to run a gentle hand down his back. Jungwoo has his head buried in his knees, inconsolable. 

“It’ll be okay, Jungwoo.” Taeyong says, pressing Jungwoo’s forehead into his chest as his arms come up to wrap around the boy’s lithe frame. “I know you’re worried about him, but it’ll be all work out. Trust me.”

Jungwoo looks up for the first time, eyes glittering with tears. “Promise?” He challenges, voice soft and light, carried away by the frigid night breeze.

Taeyong chews at his lip uneasily, not fond of making promises he isn’t sure he can keep. Before he thinks better of it, he links his pinky with Jungwoo’s, squeezing it comfortingly. “Promise.”

Jungwoo stares into his eyes for a few seconds, then nods and moves to get up and brush himself off. Taeyong helps him stand, the holes of the little table leaving indents in their backs. Jungwoo’s eyes travel over to where Lucas is tied up. Taeyong sticks a hand out to block his vision, knowing that the last thing Jungwoo needs to see right now is his beloved boyfriend strung up like a witch about to be burned at the stake. “_ Don’t _, Jungwoo.”

“We’re leaving Xuxi here, then?” He asks, fingers pulling at the loose threads in the hem of his sweater. Taeyong nods reluctantly.

“Just for a little bit. We’re just gonna duck out for a little bit, find some people that can help us and we’ll come back as soon as the police are on their way. Deal?”

Jungwoo nods bravely. “I understand.”

Taeyong exhales and motions for them to join the rest of the group near the front entrance. The walk there is extraordinarily quiet. There isn’t a hint of sound from any other park attendee, worker, entertainment stand, nothing. Even Lucas has gone silent.

It seems the older members were able to raise the spirits of the babies a little bit. Jaemin and Donghyuck are trying to hug Renjun to death while Jeno, likely valuing his life, stands off to the side and watches. Smart, Jeno. Mark is rapping to seemingly nobody because honestly, when isn’t he. Jisung and Chenle seem to have started a game of chicken fight atop Kun and Sicheng’s backs, respectively.

As long as they’re smiling and distracted, Taeyong doesn’t give a flying fuck what they’re doing.

Taeyong claps his hands to get their attention. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get going.” He pushes through the turnstiles and heads towards the gate, not waiting for the rest of the group to follow. The bus takes a while to start up, anyways.

“Oh, christ.” Taeyong breathes as his eyes meet the gate. There’s a huge gate closing off the exit to the park. Thick metal bars placed inches from each other reach up at least ten or twenty feet. Taeyong assesses it quickly. They’re much too high to climb, at least without equipment-- and even then it’d be extremely dangerous. The bars are slippery and too close together to step through, and the top of the gate looks jagged and sharp. He shakes the bars with all his might. They don’t budge in the slightest.

“Are we trapped?” Kun says in utter disbelief. Taeyong doesn’t blame him. How in the fuck did they end up _ locked _ in to this place?

“Is it past closing time? It doesn’t seem that late.” Jaehyun frowns. Taeyong would check, but their phones are all dead. It can’t be past closing, though. Don’t parks usually have a ‘get the fuck out we close in five minutes’ sort of warning? Taeyong remembers the eerily empty booths and thinks perhaps there was no one left to warn them.

Jisung grasps two of the bars, trying to wedge his foot in between them so he can climb up. He hoists himself up a few feet, gangly limbs trembling with the effort.

Taeyong shivers. “Jisung, get down. That’s dangerous.”

Jisung ignores him, cramming his other foot in a little higher and grunting as he boosts himself up again.

“Jisung.” Taeyong warns again, getting anxious. 

Jisung turns to look down at Taeyong with a pout. “If I can get over this, maybe I can unlock the gate and get us out of here! Please, just let me try. Jeez.”

“Jisung!” Taeyong’s eyes widen as he looks at where Jisung is about to place his hand-- right on top of a nasty looking spike jutting out from one of the bars. “Jisung_ get down!” _

“Why do you--” Jisungs protests are cut off by a scream as his hand makes contact with the sharp protrusion. He yanks his hand away, throwing his balance off and sending him plummeting towards the ground.

Taeyong can only cringe and hide his face, not able to bear the sight of another bloodied younger brother. Slowly, he peeks through his fingers.

While Taeyong was frozen in his spot, Jaehyun and Doyoung had lunged forward as soon as they spotted Jisung slipping, helping to catch him. Thank the heavens the boy seems alright, just a little bruised from his head knocking against the bars on the way down.

Eye twitching, Taeyong ushers the lot of them back through the turnstiles and into the mouth of the park again. “_No _more attempts at climbing that thing, okay? I’m sure there’s another exit. If there isn’t one, there’s got to be some machinery here we can use to cut the gates open. Let’s regroup by those tables again and discuss some plans.”

The walk back is filled with nervous chatter. Obviously, no one was expecting to be trapped inside the park, and it raises more questions than answers. Who closed the gates, and how? How are they supposed to escape now?

Taeyong shakes the worries out of his head as he strikes up a fairly normal conversation with Kun, trying to keep grounded as best as he can. Kun is good for that, gentle smile and unabashed giggles helping to ease Taeyong’s stress.

It all comes crashing down the minute they get back to the meeting area.

Taeyong makes eye contact with Jaehyun, shrugging his shoulder in the direction of where they left Lucas. If they’re gonna be stuck in the park for a while without help coming, he may as well check in on the boy and maybe leave some food and water in reach. The guilt of leaving him tied up like an animal is eating away at his heart.

Taeyong trudges towards the hidden little area, completely unprepared to see Lucas’s head resting back on the cool metal of the lamppost, exposing his slit throat to the world.

“What the-- _ Lucas!” _ Taeyong shrieks, scrambling closer to the body. “Oh my god, oh my god!” The pocket knife used to kill the woman looks slick with fresh blood, dropped a foot or so off from Lucas’s prone figure. Taeyong doesn’t dare to touch the weapon.

With quaking fingers he brushes his fingertips along Lucas’s jaw, sobbing as he begs the boy to not be dead-- oh god, _ please don’t be dead._ He turns the boy’s head this way and that, slapping at his cheeks, but nothing will rouse him. His eyes are pulled shut, muscles slackened and body limp. His hands and legs are still bound. Shaking, Taeyong reaches around to release him, and Lucas crumples fully to the ground. The only thing moving is the ooze of blood dripping from his neck.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He chokes. “This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have left you here!”

_ I should’ve trusted you. _

“Taeyong? What’s wrong?”

Oh, god. “J-Jungwoo don’t look. Don’t look!” Taeyong tries to block Jungwoo from reaching them, but it’s too late. Too easily Taeyong allows himself to be shoved to the side as Jungwoo crashes down next to Lucas’s body.

“Xuxi...Xuxi, baby wake up!” Jungwoo cries, beating at Lucas’s chest. He tears off a chunk of his shirt to press to Lucas’s wound. Taeyong wants to tell him that it’s futile, that Lucas is already gone, but he can’t get the words out. Jungwoo sobs and screams and curses the world, cradling Lucas’s head to his chest. He runs his fingers through the tangled brown hair, matted with blood, in hopes that his touch will make the boy come alive again.

It’s only with half an hour’s time and four members that they’re able to separate the blood soaked Jungwoo from the equally blood soaked Lucas. Jungwoo, despite not being the corpse on the ground, looks about as close to death as one can get.

The rest of the group has once again gathered around the cursed little corner, horrified by the screams and blood spatters and death. Taeyong doesn’t know how to console them. He doesn’t know how to fix this and make it better because there is no easy fix.

“I loved him!” Jungwoo spits as he’s dragged further and further from the body. “I don’t care if you all thought he was a murderer! He was innocent and I loved him! _ I love him!” _

Taeyong doesn’t know how to make this better. He can feel himself crumbling under the pressure.

He isn’t equipped for this. 

Death is not as simple to settle as wars over who is using what expensive fruity shampoo in the showers or who gets to choose the movie for the night. Grief is not as easy to manage as a meal plan for the week or a shower schedule.

Taeyong wasn’t _ trained _ to deal with death.

He herds them all away from the body, as far as he can get them. He wants to cry, wants to scream and plead with Lucas and beg for his forgiveness, wants to lose his mind and argue with the heavens like the rest of them but he doesn’t have the luxury of challenging God right now.

Right now, they need a game plan.

“Headcount!” Taeyong calls, frantic now. One by one each member pipes up, but Taeyong is only left with fifteen, despite counting himself. Even with-- _ Lucas _ , they should have seventeen. “Yuta!” He whirls on the boy. “This is _ not _ the time to be fucking around with us, okay? I don’t give a flying fuck what you think about my leadership skills but people are _ dying _so work with me, can you handle that?” His tone drips with sarcastic sweetness. “I’ll keep treating you like a child until you stop acting like one.”

Taeyong knows he shouldn’t have snapped like that. In the long run, it doesn’t help anyone to start fights and cause tension within the group, but goddamn Yuta is killing him with this headcount thing. He’s just trying to assess whether they’re all safe and accounted for and he’s trying to make Taeyong’s life harder by--

“I said my number.” Yuta crosses his arms firmly over his chest, defiance in his eyes.

“What?” Taeyong turns back, eyes searching the group again. “...You did? Let’s count again.”

Fifteen.

“Again?”

Fifteen.

“Yongie, Johnny and Taeil are missing.” Chenle says, lower lip trembling. Taeyong lets his finger fall from where he was counting them up yet again.

Johnny and Taeil are missing.

Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Great. Sure, they’re missing, but they’re also some of the most mature and responsible members of the group, people Taeyong (and most of them) tend to lean on in times of trouble. They’ll certainly search for them, but there’s a chance they’re just in the bathroom or something explainable like that.

Taeyong shudders at the thought of what happened last time he brushed off a missing member as being in the bathroom.

“They can handle themselves, don’t worry.” Taeyong runs a hand over his face. “Don’t...don’t worry.” He whispers under his breath, mainly to himself.

“Shall we split into two groups and search for them?” Jaehyun suggests. Taeyong stomach roils at the thought, but it does make sense that if they want to find two people as fast as possible, they should split into at least two groups. It’s probably safe to assume that Taeil and Johnny are together, wherever they are, but…

Nothing is safe anymore.

Jaehyun heads one group, heading towards the back of the park. Taeyong appoints Sicheng as the head of the other. He watches the groups start off, watchful eye ensuring that everyone is going where he believes they’re going. Satisfied, he’s about to follow Jaehyun’s team when he notices something laying on the ground.

His eyebrows furrow. It’s Jaehyun’s weird new phone, but there a faint light emanating from where the screen is pressed into the dirt. He turns it over and picks it up gingerly, holding it between two fingers. He’s not the crazy jealous boyfriend type-- he really isn’t. He’s not the type to go through his significant other’s phone looking for trouble, but why the fuck is Jaehyun’s phone working and no one else’s is? And why hasn’t he said anything?

Biting his lip, Taeyong swipes into the phone. The passcode is Taeyong’s birthday, the cheesy fucker. The phone seems to be glitching oddly. None of the apps work, and the touchscreen seems faulty at best. Instead of accessing the menu of apps with the home button, it only serves to toggle between the open camera and some photos in the photo album. Oddly enough, the photo album is purged of mostly everything before that night, save for a few awkward mirror selfies of Jaehyun. Oh, Jaehyun.

Taeyong is about to close out of the phone and leave it be when he notices something a little odd. In nearly every photo, from the candids taken on the bus to a few taken in the park, there’s always a member staring straight into the camera with glowing red eyes. There’s a photo of Lucas, right before they lost him. The expression on his face is...haunting. His eyes look dead, cold, _ murderous _.

Taeyong flicks through a few more similar photos. There’s one of Johnny and Taeil, making Taeyong’s heart squeeze and reminding him of the mission at hand. There’s one of Jungwoo, a few of Ten and Doyoung and some of the others, all with those creepy glowing eyes and blank expressions.

Strange. But not _ that _ strange, right? People get red eyes in photos all the time. So what if every single photo turned out that way? It’s a new phone, new camera, and poor Jaehyun apparently just isn’t talented at photography. No cause for alarm.

But the phone works. Why would Jaehyun hide that from him?

“Hey, Taeyong, are you coming?” Jaehyun doubles back, noticing their leader still hung up by the meeting spot. He tilts his head. “Oh, is that my phone?”

Taeyong worries at his lip, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes.

_ CONFRONT JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 46](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745243) _

_ DON’T CONFRONT JAEHYUN? _

_ → [Chapter 17 [WARNING: ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744682)_


	4. four.

_ DON’T GO _

_ → Selected! _

“It’s too dangerous.” Taeyong says firmly, turning away. “I won’t let you guys kill yourselves. We’re leaving.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous.” Yuta spits, but Taeyong doesn’t back down. It’s not worth the risk. If they get out of here now, they can call for help and have actual professionals find Johnny and Taeil and hopefully whoever is threatening them. Taeyong starts to walk back towards the entrance, hoping the others would follow.

“Wait!” calls Jisung, teary eyed. Taeyong’s heart splinters at the sight.

“What is it, Sungie?” Taeyong reaches a hand out to ruffle the boy’s head a bit, but he flinches back, pain flashing in his eyes. Taeyong tries to mask the hurt on his face. It’s for the best. It’s for the best.

“C-Can we look around just a bit longer? Maybe we’ll find a clue, o-or one of their phones, or the car keys! We can’t leave without Johnny’s car keys!” Jisung stands his ground, staring Taeyong down defiantly. Taeyong chews his lip. Jisung is right; they do need those keys in order to leave.

He groans. “Okay, we’ll look around for ten more minutes, and then we leave. I don’t care if we have to _ walk _ back to civilization, we aren’t staying here any longer. And no following that path!” Taeyong claps his hands, and the boys disperse. Yuta gives him another nasty look, but he shakes it off. They’re all hurting right now.

This is for the best.

Taeyong scans over the area, making a mental note of where each of his boys have disappeared off to. He won’t lose another one. Never again.

Jaehyun hooks his chin over Taeyong’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?” His voice is warm and pleasant in Taeyong’s ear, comforting and smooth like honey. He always loved Jaehyun’s voice.

Taeyong releases a deep, long sigh. “As well as I have to.”

Jaehyun hums, maneuvering so that both hands are on Taeyong’s shoulders, one hand skimming the nape of his neck. He rubs the tense muscles gently.

“Am I doing the right thing, Jae?” Taeyong mumbles weakly, his eyelids fluttering shut. “I don’t want to abandon Johnny and Taeil, trust me I’d never want to. But...shouldn’t I put the well-being of group first? I would send them back and search alone but I don’t want to leave them alone either. What do I do?” His voice breaks off into tears, bowing his head.

Jaehyun doesn’t respond, his body going stiff behind Taeyong. The pads of his fingers dig even deeper into the stretched muscles of Taeyong’s neck. 

“Ow, Jae.” Taeyong complains, reaching a hand up to pull at the grip Jaehyun has on his neck. “That’s too hard.”

Jaehyun’s fingers feel like they’re going to break skin, slowly rocking his fingertips onto his nails. “Ow, Jae! What the heck?!” Taeyong rips himself out of the grip. Jaehyun is standing stock still, mouth dropped open in shock.

Jaemin is standing in front of them with one palm outstretched, something small and red laying there. He’s not moving, or speaking. Taeyong has to squint to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Jaeminnie…?” Taeyong asks carefully, moving towards him like you would a frightened animal. “What do you have there?”

Jaemin jolts as if electrocuted, his eyes going wild. He shoves his hand into Taeyong’s face. “_Look! _” He wails. Taeyong picks the little thing from Jaemin’s fingertips, examining it closely.

It’s a tiny circle, less than a quarter of the size of Taeyong’s palm. It’s red-- actually no, it’s not. Taeyong swipes a cautious fingertip over the surface. The red smears and globs on his finger, revealing an engraved J on the smooth metal surface. Taeyong blanches. This isn’t paint.

This is blood.

With trembling fingers, he finds the notch on the side and pries it open. It’s a locket. One side is a picture of sweet little baby Johnny and his family, and the other side is a photo of them. Of the members. Of _ their _ family.

Oh, god.

Jaemin snatches it back and shakes it angrily his way, crying, “This was on his lanyard! He was here, he’s in trouble, and we _ owe _ it to him to find him. Now! Before it’s too late!”

Taeyong feels his heart being crushed in his chest. He looks to Jaehyun for guidance, but the boy has his head bowed. He lifts it briefly, longing and sadness reflected in his irises.

Jaemin takes another step towards him, tears pouring down his face. At this point Mark has noticed the ruckus and starts moving towards them, aiming to calm Jaemin down. He normally handles these sorts of things with the dreamies, but there’s no placating Jaemin right now. He cares too much, too deeply, and to the point where he would die for his brothers.

And he may.

Taeyong is waging a war with himself in his head. He can’t let the rest of them get hurt. But if he makes them abandon the family members they swore to protect and love since day one, that’s a different kind of hurt. But again, can he jeopardize them like that? Can he live with himself if harm comes to another one of them?

“Feel it.” Taeyong does. “It’s warm.” It is. “It’s fresh.” It is. “They could still be alive.” They could.

But not for long.

“Time is running out whether you want it to or not.” Jaemin says, walking towards the path. “I’m sorry, Taeyongie, but I can’t just walk away from my brothers who need me, who could still be alive right now, begging for us to help.”

Taeyong buries his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Okay. Okay. Okay. He can manage this, he can keep an eye on them all and keep them safe and not break his promise to Johnny and Taeil, his promise to watch over them and love them and keep them safe. He can do it.

“Let’s go, everyone.” Taeyong announces the verdict with a cold, filtered voice. No one can hear the tremor in his speech, the fear clawing its way up his throat. He approaches the woods with faux confidence, most of the boys filing in before him.

He can do it.

_ FOLLOW FOOTSTEPS. _

_ [→ Chapter 19](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744727) _


	5. five.

_ PLAY _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong grits his teeth, motioning for Chenle to place the planchette on the board. “Okay, we’ll try it. I know we all just want to escape right now, but I think Jaemin might be on to something. This..._ thing. _..might be too much to just run away from.”

“What if it goes wrong?” Taeil nibbles at his bottom lip, casting nervous glances to Lucas and Yuta. “What if...someone loses control?”

Taeyong rolls out a crick in his neck. He taps his fingertips against the smooth face of the board. “We won’t know until we try, but if it starts to go downhill we can just stop, can’t we?” He searches each boy’s face. “We’re going to do this as a family. All of us.”

He places two fingers on the planchette, Chenle’s shaking fingers coming to rest next to his. Renjun adds his to the mix, dragging along a huffing Donghyuck. Soon enough, everyone is on board. Everyone except--

“Jae…?” Taeyong speaks carefully so as to not startle the boy. Jaehyun has a faraway look in his eyes, sitting just apart from the rest of the group. “We need you to join.”

“No.”

“Please, Jaehyun. We need to do this together. I don’t…I don’t know what happens if you stay in the room but don’t participate in the game.”

Chenle furrows his brows at that, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. “B-But when Jisungie and I used it the other night, you--”

“I’m not doing this! I-- I can’t!” Jaehyun shakes his head furiously, sweat dripping into his lap. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“This is our best plan right now. Do you…” Taeyong trails off, remembering Jaehyun’s words from so long ago. He holds out a hand. “Do you trust me?”

The lights overhead flicker.

Jaehyun winces, contemplating for much longer than Taeyong would’ve liked. What could he have done to make Jaehyun not trust him? Other than let down his family and do nothing as several of them were murdered in cold blood.

_ You fai-- _

His demons quiet down as Jaehyun’s calloused hand falls in his. Taeyong lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, one part of his screaming brain shutting up for a moment as he turns back to the game. Jaehyun trusts him. Things are okay.

Jaehyun trusts him.

He gently guides Jaehyun’s hand to the planchette, holding him there even as Jaehyun flinches away like he’d been burned. “Duckie, do you know how to, like, initiate this?”

Donghyuck frowns. “I have an idea based on what we’re aiming to do, but I don’t have a fuckin...spell memorized or anything like that. Chenle, you’ve used this before, right? Shouldn’t you know how to do it?”

Chenle blanches. “Um, I’m not too good with listening to directions. The ones that came with it were in Korean, so-- so Jisungie read them.” He blinks away tears. “I don’t remember what he said.”

“That’s okay.” Taeyong rubs his thumb across Chenle’s other hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

Donghyuck starts things off, tracing large circles with the planchette. Taeyong feels something in his stomach twist each time the wolf’s eyes peer out from under the glass opening. “Hello,” Donghyuck starts, uncertainty wobbling his voice. He clears his throat, forging on a little stronger. “If there is something in this room with us, we would like to speak to you.”

Donghyuck brings the planchette to rest in the middle of the board, hovering just over the wolf’s left eye. Taeyong can’t feel anything under his fingers. He sneaks a glance at Jaehyun, who is looking worse and worse by the second.

“Spirits, we wish to open a door between our realms. Please, communicate with us. Johnny... Johnny and Doyoung, if you’re here, please give us a sign. Whoever is with us tonight, we wish to speak with you.” Donghyuck stares intensely at the little wooden oval. 

Taeyong isn’t sure whether he wants it to move or not. He sidles closer to Jaehyun, hoping to give him a little comfort by pressing into his side. Taeyong’s heart drops as he makes contact with Jaehyun’s skin. The boy’s pulse is racing beneath his skin, and his chest is moving uneasily. Yuta and Lucas don’t look quite as bad, but Yuta looks flushed. Taeyong’s gaze flickers down to the phone tucked into Jaehyun’s pocket. The light of the display is just barely visible through the denim.

“Are you there?”

Taeyong’s attention is immediately stolen away as the object under his finger jolts a little, starting to slide across the board. He holds his breath, searching the faces of each of the boys clustered around the table.

“What the fuck.” Lucas whisper-yells, looking a little green in the face. He shakes his head sharply. “Who’s doing that?”

“I don’t think any of us are in the mood for fucking around, Lucas.” Jaemin’s mouth is set in a firm line, watching the planchette intently. It’s moving slowly, but it’s _ moving. _

Jaehyun’s breathing picks up.

“Then it must be--” Jungwoo bites his words off as the planchette reaches the ‘Yes’ at the top of the board.

“Johnny?” Chenle lets the name slip desperately out of his mouth. The planchette shudders backwards a bit, then slides back to ‘Yes’. Chenle beams at them. “S-See? I knew it would work. Johnny! Johnny, can you help us? What do you know?”

“We can all agree that we aren’t moving it, yeah?” Taeil says, voice strained. Everyone nods. Everyone except--

One light goes out.

The table erupts with questions and pleas and apologies for Johnny. Taeyong’s jaw feels welded shut as he watches everyone battle to speak to Johnny first. Something feels off.

“I’m so sorry Johnny I really didn’t mean t--”

“Johnny, do you know what’s after us? It must be paranormal, right? It’s gotta be--”

“If the thing is supernatural, is it still hurting you, wherever you are?”

“Where are you, John?”

“Are you okay, Johnny? Are you happy now?”

“Is Doyoung with you?”

“Can you tell Jisung I l-love him, and he’ll always be my best friend?”

“Can you--”

Jaehyun is shaking his head. It starts off with tiny movements, slowly increasing until his head is snapping back and forth on his neck, shaking furiously as everyone shouts over each other. He’s mumbling to himself. Taeyong leans closer to hear him better, but it’s unnecessary as Jaehyun’s voice climbs.

“No, no no!” He wails to himself, starting to rock back and forth, tipped precariously on the bench as his words slur together. “No, not Johnny. Not Johnny, not Johnny not Johnny John Johnny John not Johnny--”

“Jae, honey, what do you mean?” Taeyong swallows past the lump in his throat. “What do you mean it’s not Johnny? Were you...were you moving the planchette?”

None of them have lifted their fingers off the planchette, but Jaehyun is recoiling further and further. He stifles a sob, shaking his head even harder.

“No, no, nonono not Johnny! It isn’t Johnny!” He rips his hand off the planchette, instead twisting both hands in the front of Taeyong’s sweatshirt. He jostles Taeyong a little, hiccups and groans escaping him as sweat pours down the side of his face. “P-Please believe me! Believe me believe me believe me not Johnny not Johnny not me it’s not me it’s not--”

“Jaehyun, you can’t take your hand off the planchette!” Donghyuck shouts, fear seeping into his expression. The object begins to move again, but Taeyong isn’t paying attention to the letters it’s presumably spelling out.

Jaehyun clenches his eyes, seeming to struggle with something. When he opens them again, Taeyong could swear they’re more bloodshot than they were before. 

Jaehyun takes one long, deep breath before he collapses to the floor.

“Jae!” Taeyong is by his side in an instant, fingers dropping from the planchette without much thought. Jungwoo moves to join them, but Taeyong motions him back with a sharp cut of his hand. He doesn’t know what will happen if they all abandon the game, and it’s better to not find out the hard way.

Jaehyun is convulsing on the floor, muscles seizing and jumping beneath his pasty skin. He’s blinking furiously, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge water from his ears. Taeyong’s hands flutter unsteadily around Jaehyun’s body, not sure what will help and what will set him off.

“Jaehyun, wh-what’s wrong?!” Taeyong barely gets the words out before Jaehyun is screaming hoarsely into the floorboards.

Another light goes out, pitching the room into further darkness.

“I’m _ trying!_” Jaehyun howls, hands shooting out to catch Taeyong’s wrists. He holds them tight enough to cut off his circulation, finally turning his wild eyes on Taeyong. “You shouldn’t have done it! It’s not me! It’s not _ me it’s not it’s not me! _” 

Jaehyun’s chest rumbles. Something chillingly unfamiliar lurks behind his gaze. His muscles coil up, the tremors across his body worsening and worsening. “_DIE!” _ He roars, bloody spittle flying everywhere as his hands travel up to close around Taeyong’s throat. “DIE DIE DIE WHY CAN’T HE DO IT? HE’S WEAK HE’S WEAK HE’S WEAK--”

It’s not Jaehyun’s voice.

“Taeyong!” Someone shouts from the table. Taeyong’s head has gone fuzzy-- from shock or from lack of air, he’s not sure. He scrabbles at the grip on his throat, heart clenching guiltily in his chest as thin streams of blood run down Jaehyun’s grimy hands. Lucas has reached down with his free hand to help Taeyong pry the hands off his throat.

“It keeps spelling ‘die’!” Jeno panics as the planchette whips around the board at unnatural speeds. “What have we done? What the fuck is going on?!”

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong stares desperately into the boy’s crazed eyes. He can’t find a glimmer of recognition in them. “Please,” He croaks, letting his eyes fall shut, “Please trust me. You’re--you’re okay. You can control this.”

There’s something familiar in his eyes. It’s not Jaehyun, not even close. Rather-- it reminds him of Yuta, looming over the bodies of four of his brothers.

Something clicks.

“Taeyong, I’m coming!” Lucas shouts, preparing to take his fingers away from the board.

“No!” Taeyong wheezes, thumbs gently stroking over Jaehyun’s tear-splashed knuckles. The grip isn’t tight enough to kill him-- at least, not yet. He can feel ugly bruises forming under his skin. “Y-You’re vulnerable, ‘Cas. Stay...there.”

The empty look in Jaehyun’s eyes splinters for just a moment, and his hold loosens. There’s desperation there, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. Wherever he is, Jaehyun is trapped. “I c-can’t, can’t hold-- hold her _ back_!” Jaehyun dry heaves, muscles jerking back and forth as he fights to pull himself off Taeyong. “I can’t c-contro-- control it!”

The darkness slithers back into Jaehyun’s eyes, shaking hands growing deathly still as he wrenches Taeyong to the side. He throws the thin boy onto his back, slamming his head into the splintery wood floor.

_ “TAEYONG!” _Someone shrieks as Jaehyun straddles him, bruising grip now enough to cut off his air supply. Taeyong struggles desperately, kicking at the legs locking him down, but the lack of food and sleep has rendered him barely able to stand, let alone hold his own in a fight.

“He’s got a soft spot for you, huh?!” Jaehyun’s voice is thick and gravelly, each word tearing roughly from his vocal cords. “We can fix that.”

Black spots grow across Taeyong’s vision.

“We need to stop!” Chenle sobs. The rest of the group is making quite the racket, but it sounds so far away. Taeyong can’t tell what they’re arguing about. What were they trying to do, again?

His ears feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton, his mouth dry and scraping. Why can’t he see?

“How do we stop?! Can we destroy the board, or something? Don’t you have to burn these things?” Taeil sounds so far away, the panic bleeding into his voice doesn’t even reach Taeyong’s ears.

Suddenly, the pressure against his throat is gone. Jaehyun jolts backward, clenched fists beating relentlessly at his head. “_IT’S ALL MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT!” _He wails, blood trickling from his temples.

Taeyong greedily gulps in mouthfuls of air, struggling to catch his breath. He can’t move, but his vision isn’t dimming anymore. Through the ringing in his ears, he can just make out everyone arguing about the game. 

The lights overhead are blinking furiously, swinging in whatever wind has crept inside the rickety cabin. The flashing disorients him as he fights to sit up. Jaehyun is bent over somewhere to the side of him, smashing his forehead into a bloody pulp as he fights an unknown war in his head. He’s hiccuping pleas through his sobs, but no one is listening.

“We’ll just destroy the board, p-problem solved!”

“No, we can’t! We don’t know what will happen if we do that, can’t we banish it with this? Whatever it is?”

“That’s just the thing, we don’t know what kind of fucked up demon we’re dealing with! Let’s break the board and run!”

“Jungwoo, you can’t take your hand off!”

“If we do this wrong, Taeyong could die! We could all die!”

“Taeyong _ is _dying! We have to do something right now or Taeyong is fucking dead!”

Taeyong lifts one quivering hand up towards the table, placing it on Lucas’s arm. Lucas startles, mouth dropping into a shocked ‘o’ as he reaches out to support Taeyong. He doesn’t try to pull him up, guessing correctly that Taeyong is too dizzy to stand and any force on his body would only make him sicker.

“Keep going.” Taeyong’s voice wobbles through his scratchy throat.

Behind them, Jaehyun has gone frighteningly still. Taeyong knows they don’t have much time. Jaehyun can’t fight off...whatever is in his head for long.

However, things are starting to fall into place in Taeyong’s mind. The empty look in Jaehyun’s eyes nearly mirrors what he saw in Lucas, Yuta, and even Doyoung and Johnny when they reported back from their mission-- except Jaehyun’s gaze was stronger, more lethal, more _ feral _.

Whatever Jaehyun is grappling with must be whatever is targeting them. He doesn’t know exactly how, but the sinking feeling in his gut says that this all ends with Jaehyun-- one way or another.

“We can’t! Taeyong, he’s going to kill you! We-- We unleashed something. Whatever we did, we need to undo it and smash this fucking cursed thing!” Lucas hisses through the side of his mouth, tracking Jaehyun intently. The boy’s muscles are starting to tremble, fingers slick with the blood dribbling down his face.

Can they banish it? Taeyong...Taeyong doesn’t know for sure. The desperation pounding at his chest screams that they can’t just destroy it, they have to keep going, see this through until the end. They’ve got to be able to close out the session properly, right?

Exhaustion clouds his mind as the searing pain in his throat builds. Perhaps Jaehyun did more damage than he thought at first, adrenaline masking the agony.

A few feet away, Jaehyun’s shoulders hunch. His head cranes ever so slowly back, tilting unnaturally as his cold eyes meet Taeyong’s.

They don’t have much time.

  
  
  


_ KEEP GOING? _

_ [→ Chapter 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744514)_

_ END IT? _

[ _ → Chapter 21 [WARNING: ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION] _ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744757)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. six.

_ LEAVE JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong takes a few shaky steps towards Jaehyun’s quiet form. He slumps to his knees, delicately touching Jaehyun’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. Jaehyun is barely conscious, eyes only half opening to gaze at the boy in front of him. Taeyong gently bumps their foreheads together as his fingers brush over every dip and swell of Jaehyun’s face, desperately trying to memorize the feeling on his skin. The other boys respectfully turn away to allow Taeyong the goodbye none of them had with their significant others. Taeyong, choking on his sobs, rests his head on Jaehyun’s stuttering chest.

“I’m going to come back for you.” Taeyong whispers into Jaehyun’s bloody shirt. “I’ll come back with a- a priest or an exorcist or the police or _ whatever it takes. _ I’m going to get us rescued and then I’ll come back to save you. I promise.”

_ I promise. _

“I’ll come back.”

_ I’ll keep you safe, Lele, I promise. _

The slightest hint of a smile cracks through on Jaehyun’s face as they begin to take their leave. Doyoung has to wrestle Taeyong away. Each step he takes away from Jaehyun tears another chunk out of his heart. He feels as if there’s a string connecting them, and every additional centimeter away from that damned clearing pulls it tauter and tauter until eventually Taeyong knows it’s going to snap. _ He’s _ going to snap.

...But he doesn’t.

Taeyong retreats somewhere far, far within himself. He sees himself instruct the rest of the boys to take breaks, to take this path instead of that, to bundle up when the temperature starts to drop and night cloaks them once again, but it feels like someone else. He feels a million miles away, detached and floating away from all the stress, all the grief, all the _ pain. _

Jaemin shouts, and Taeyong’s heart drops into his feet in terror, but it’s a happy shout. The relief coloring Jaemin’s voice is something Taeyong feels like he hasn’t heard in years. There’s light shining through the trees.

A road.

Finally, _ finally _ they’ve stumbled upon a road. Taeyong collapses on the shoulder of the road and just narrowly misses getting run over by a truck as the headlights flash over him. Blessedly, the drone of the motor cuts out and a woman jumps out of the side.

“Whoa!” She exclaims, sizing up the band of ragged looking boys. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Taeyong starts sobbing uncontrollably, the rest of them soon following. Doyoung, the only one with his head on even a little bit straight, stumbles over to the woman.

“Call the police. Please.”

And so the ambulances come, the firetrucks and police cars blaring sirens into Taeyong’s ear canals, lights blinding him and sending his delirious mind reeling, but it all numbs out in favor of one thought.

“Wait! Wait, p-please, my boyfriend-- my b-boyfriend is still in there. In the woods. Please, y-you have to help him! You have to find him!” Taeyong begs the officer trying to question him. He refuses to answer anything until they promise to retrieve Jaehyun, but law enforcement isn’t budging. The officer raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Taeyong’s blubbering.

“We’re going to get you all to a hospital first. We’ll set out a search party for Mr. Jung in the morning.” 

It isn’t enough. Taeyong wants to scream, wants to cry and pound his fists against the officer’s chest because that isn’t fucking _ good enough. _ They need to find Jaehyun right now, or he’ll-- he’ll--

_ I promised I’d be back for him. _

Taeyong doubles over, face red as tears stream down his cheeks. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. His vision blurs, spots dancing across it. Blackness starts to creep in at the edges. The officer gives him a disapproving look, but it isn’t the same balding man as a few minutes ago. It’s Jaehyun, standing there with a police badge pinned to his uniform, the entire bottom half of his face mangled and bloody. His torn up mouth moves slowly.

_ You’ve failed again, Taeyong. _

“He’s hyperventilating! Someone get me a stretcher, quick!”

_ I know. _

He hears nothing but the screams of those he’s lost condemning him forever, their bloodied faces swirling in his vision chanting, _ why, Taeyong? Why? Why? Why didn’t you save us? Why don’t you love us? _

“_ ’m sorry! _” Taeyong chokes out, wheezing as his lungs shrink smaller and smaller, sobbing as his heart rots to nothingness in his chest. 

The clatter of medical personnel around him grows louder as Taeyong blacks out.

_________________________

“We’ve conducted a thorough search throughout the entire woods and have not found any trace of missing person Jung Jaehyun. We’re deeply sorry for your loss, sir.”

“Search again.” Taeyong spits into the phone and hangs up abruptly.

It’s been almost a week since Taeyong and his boys-- some of them-- escaped the forest, and Jaehyun is nowhere to be found. He was told that officers searched the premises after they were admitted to the hospital, but to no avail. After the initial combing, they sent out a search party and put up a missing person notice after 24 hours had passed.

Jung Jaehyun has disappeared.

Taeyong sets the phone down on its front in frustration, burying his face in his hands. A tear slips between his fingers, dripping onto the granite countertop. He lies there, dipping his head to press his forehead into the cool stone. A slender hand slides up his back and rests on his shoulder.

“We’ll find him.” Sicheng murmurs. “We’ll go back for him.”

_________________________

Six months later, Jung Jaehyun is pronounced dead by law enforcement.

The case is cold. Taeyong had tried to return to the forest many times-- each time he would stop and turn around, unable to face the source of his nightmares, his grief, the reminders of all his broken promises.

They recovered all the bodies of their deceased members, and funerals were held accordingly. Each one broke Taeyong a little more than the other one, reducing him to nothing more than a mess of skin and bones and wide, pleading eyes. 

They were all buried side by side. Jaehyun is added last to the row, his grave cold and empty.

_________________________

Doyoung has a pair of thin wire frame glasses slipping down his nose, fogging up slightly as he downs his morning coffee. Taeyong sits across him, slumped onto the table. He rests his head on his arms, watching as Doyoung sets the paper down with a sour look. The morning news filters into Taeyong’s head, the drone of the reporter swirling around him.

Taeyong feels nothing.

Doyoung takes a large swig of coffee like he wishes it was vodka. Taeyong actually wouldn’t be surprised if he spiked the coffee-- it wouldn’t be the first time.

Doyoung clears his throat. Taeyong doesn’t move an inch, unblinking.

“They found another one.” He starts, fingertip skimming across the crinkled tan pages of the newspaper.

** _ANOTHER BODY FOUND IN INFAMOUS INCHEON FOREST: SUICIDE EPIDEMIC? OR SOMETHING WORSE?_ **

Taeyong knows without even having to look away from Doyoung because the same headline is blaring from the television.

“That’s the fourteenth one since we left.”

Doyoung breaks eye contact first.

They never found Jaehyun’s body. Taeyong doesn’t say a word.

_________________________

“We left something in that forest.” Jaemin tells Renjun with shaking hands in the dead of night. “I don’t know if it was what we thought we left.”

_________________________

It’s the one year anniversary of the day they entered the forest, and Taeyong swipes the car keys off the hook.

“Where are you going?” comes Kun’s strong voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, assessing Taeyong sharply. Taeyong never drives anymore. Taeyong barely leaves his room.

Anniversaries are always an omen in the horror movies, but Taeyong doesn’t care. He has something he has to do.

He owes it.

“I’ll be back before dinner.” Is all the explanation Kun gets before Taeyong sweeps out the door, moving slowly and wispily like an apparition.

His fingers tremble with the effort as he inserts the key into the ignition. He’s getting frail. Weeks of lethargy and malnutrition will do that to you.

Taeyong drives in silence until it’s deafening, his ears throbbing. Robotically, he switches on the radio. What is Love comes on, and he doesn’t have the heart to change it.

“I wanna know, know, know, know…” Taeyong mumbles thickly to himself, pulling up to where they exited the forest one year prior. He can tell by the straggled bits of caution tape still stuck to the trees. “What is love?”

The forest isn’t easy. It isn’t welcoming or forgiving by any means, but it is a little brighter in daylight. Muscle memory carries him back towards the lake.

He looks out over it. It glimmers in the sunshine, reflecting the rays onto the rocky shore. It looks much prettier and friendlier than it has any right to look.

“I wanna know, know, know, know...”

Taeyong stands in front of Donghyuck’s tree, a thumb brushing over the letters etched deep into the trunk. He grips the exacto knife in his pocket, taking it out and burying it deep into the wood. In careful letters, he carves.

_ Jung Jaehyun _

“What is love?”

Taeyong hadn’t spoken. He hears a crunch from behind him, but doesn’t move. 

_ Click. _

Taeyong doesn’t remember leaving. He doesn’t remember driving home, doesn’t remember blowing off Yuta questioning him where he was. 

All he remembers is glowing red eyes and the flash of a camera.

A body is uncovered in the forest a few days later. Taeyong doesn’t say a word.

**N E U T R A L E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 39](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745153) _

  
_ [END](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396)._


	7. seven.

_ CONTINUE _

_ → Selected! _

“Yeah, yeah.” Taeyong stops biting his nails. “You’re right. Now, who wants to choose the next ride?”

Chenle and Jisung nearly kill each other over whether to ride the next scariest ride in the park (Chenle) or the spinning teacups (Jisung). 

“I’ll have you know the spinning teacups can be _ very _ scary and _ very _manly. Have you even seen how fast those things can go? Not for the faint of heart, I’ll tell you that.” Jisung is explaining very matter-of-factly to Chenle, who doesn’t appear to be listening. Taeyong isn’t really listening either, too focused on the odd feeling in his stomach. They end up riding both the spinning teacups and Chenle’s roller coaster. 

“Oh, look! The actors are coming out.” Jaemin says leaning around Johnny. 

“Are you sure those are the actors?” Doyoung says quietly. The figures lumbering across the road do in fact look pale and ghostly, moving wispily through the area. They’re all migrating towards one side of the park, like they’re being pulled on strings. “They aren’t trying to scare us at all.”

“It’s...probably because I have this.” Jeno takes out a glowing necklace from underneath his sweatshirt. 

Mark groans. “You bought the monster-be-gone necklace? Bro, we paid to be scared here and now none of them are gonna go near us!”

Jeno shrugs. “Sorry. I wasn’t planning on getting one, but something just sort of came over me.”

“Still, just because Jeno’s off-limits doesn’t mean the rest of us are...Whatever, they’re just shitty at their jobs, I guess.” says Johnny.

“Or they’re drunk.” Ten yawns. “Can we move on? I want to try out one of the haunted houses. What about the corn maze?”

“That’s near the entrance, I think. Close to the Vampire’s Death Drop.” Johnny says, looking at the map. It’s upside down, but no one doubts Johnny. It’s Johnny.

Taeyong chews on his lip in worry. It’s been probably a full half an hour since anyone’s seen Lucas. Jaehyun, being the perfect boyfriend he is, notices and sidles over to Taeyong, wrapping an arm around him.

“Worried about Xuxi?” 

Taeyong sighs into Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Yeah. I know Yuta said to trust everyone and, like, he’s got a point? But I can’t help but worry...especially if he’s sick, we should be there to help him, right? I can’t believe we just left him there.”

Jaehyun hums low in his throat. “Look at the kids, though. They’re having so much fun, it would be a shame if they couldn’t go on rides because we’re babysitting Lucas, who is probably fine on his own. Don’t think too hard, and try to have some fun yourself! You can’t worry about them all the time. Live your own life.”

Taeyong smiles warmly. “Thanks, Jae. I needed that.”

“Anytime, Yong.”

Taeyong looks up, and is met with a sea of corn. There’s no worker standing there to let them in, but there’s no gate or anything so they just head in by themselves. The corn maze is notably winding for a horror walk. Usually most of the scares come from actors hiding in the corn, but Taeyong is sort of more scared of getting lost and never coming out.

As a matter of fact, there aren’t a lot of actors in the maze either. There seem to be a few lurking amongst the corn, but Taeyong’s eyes could have easily been playing tricks on him.

They boys have to move through the maze side by side, since there isn’t enough room for them to clump up like they usually do. Taeyong and Jaehyun lead the pack, as usual, but everyone lags a bit behind, chatting amongst themselves. About halfway through the maze, right in the thick of things, Taeyong hears an unsettling clacking of machinery. A man emerges from the corn, with a hockey mask and dark clothes. He’s wielding a very real looking chainsaw, and he’s coming straight for Taeyong’s head.

He’s seen this before. This is a classic horror fest scare. Usually they’ll lunge at you with the chainsaw revving, then scrape at the pavement to make sparks. It’s one of the more flashy scares.

However, this man just keeps advancing, showing no signs of ducking out. The man swings the chainsaw in a big arc, coming uncomfortably close to Taeyong’s feet. He dodges, laughing nervously. “He’s really-- wow, he’s really convincing!” 

The man, breathing heavily and looking haggard, keeps after Taeyong, and he starts to feel as if this is going a little off script. The masked man convulses suddenly, and when he straightens up he lunges straight for Taeyong’s neck.

“Taeyong, _ move!_” 

Taeyong ducks and rolls out of the way, colliding into the corn. He sits up in the dirt as a bright flash envelopes his vision, what sounds like a camera shutter going off behind him. When the spots in his eyes clear, the man is gone. Jaehyun is standing where Taeyong was, phone held parallel to the ground. He’s shaking.

“What--” Taeyong wheezes, “the _ frick _ was that?” There are still children around, after all.

“The actors here must _ really _ be drunk.” Johnny says, hands on his knees. He looks shaken as well, which is not normal sight for the rest of the group. “Jae, what did you do?”

Jaehyun looks at the phone in his hand as if he didn’t realize it was even there. “I...I stunned him with the flashlight. He looked startled and then just ran off into the maze.”

Taeyong brushes himself off gingerly. “Okay. Okay we really need to leave, drunk or crazy that guy is unstable and armed and _ loose_.”

“Deep breaths, Taeyong.” Jungwoo says, coming up behind said boy. “We’ll get out of here.”

Doyoung, the one with the best sense of direction, takes charge and quickly finds their path out. The rest of the walk passes by incredibly uneventfully, with no sign of the armed man, but also no sign of the regular actors, or even any other park attendees. Nothing happens, but somehow they are all more terrified than ever before.

When they emerge from the maze and pause to catch their breath, they are met with a completely deserted park. No attendees, no actors, no workers. Nothing.

“This is...haunting.” someone says.

“Wait, where’s Taeil and Johnny?” asks Kun, looking around. He brought up the rear of the group, so they couldn’t have been behind him, but he doesn’t see them anywhere.

“Dunno. Probably making out somewhere.” Yuta snarks.

“This is not the time. We really should find them, I don’t like that people are splitting off.” Taeyong says nervously. This whole situation is just too weird.

“There he goes again. Helicopter parent Taeyong.”

“Oh my god Yuta, do you ever rest?” Taeyong clenches his fist and moves towards Yuta. “What the fuck is wrong with your attitude today? You aren’t usually _ this _ big of a bitch.”

“What is...no…that’s n-not possible!” A wavery voice breaks into the tense silence, sounding close to tears. Taeyong immediately forgets about his little spat with Yuta and turns to assess the problem. Jungwoo is standing slightly apart from the group, head bowed and lips trembling. He’s pointing to something on the ground.

Kun walks over and picks it up. “A bracelet? Jungwoo, what is this?”

Taeyong leans closer to get a good look at it. It’s a cute handmade string bracelet, pearly beads spelling out ‘forever’ across it. Jungwoo flips the large decorative heart charm in the center of the bracelet. Etched into the back is a short message.

_ To Xuxi, _

_ We are forever. _

_ With love, _

_ Zeus _

“This…” Jungwoo lifts his head and shakes the item at the rest of the group, tears brimming in his eyes. “This was our _ anniversary _ gift to each other. We never take them off.” he raises a hand and sure enough, a similar looking bracelet lines his wrist. “Something’s wrong. _ Trust me. _” Jungwoo is breathing hard.

“I don’t...okay. Okay, we are going after Lucas and that’s that.” Taeyong decides, turning on his heel, making his way towards the restrooms.

“What about Johnny? And Taeil?” Jisung pipes up.

Taeyong stops dead. Fuck. Lucas, or Taeil and Johnny? Much as he loves Lucas, most everyone knows that Lucas is more reckless than both Taeil and Johnny, who are practically Taeyong’s right hand men after Jaehyun. If anyone can handle themselves, it’s them... “I’ll text them both and we’ll come back here to find them. Right now, let’s focus on Lucas.”

He marches straight to the restrooms with (hopefully) everyone in tow, though Jisung keeps casting worried glances back to the corn maze. They search the area for a little bit, but to no avail. No workers, no attendees, and certainly no Wong Lucas.

Jungwoo is noticeably agitated, picking at the skin around his nail beds and wringing at his hands. He keeps pacing around the area, clutching the bracelet in his hands.

“The-- Lucas would never. He would never take the bracelet off, I swear! I don’t...I d-don’t understand…” Jungwoo is chewing on his bottom lip so hard he’s close to drawing blood.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

And they do.

Ultimately, it’s Ten who finds Lucas, crumpled on the ground far behind the bathrooms. He’s laying face down, body splayed out at weird angles.

“Xuxi? _ Xuxi!” _ Jungwoo screams, dropping the bracelet as he sprints to Lucas’s side. “What-- w-what happened to you…” Jungwoo turns him onto his stomach. Lucas’s eyes are wide open, cloudy and vacant and unblinking. His neck is bent in a way that necks are not built to bend, body stiff.

Jungwoo shakes him, “O-Oh my god please wake up, please please p-please wake up baby,” Jungwoo is sobbing now, sobbing as the rest of the group stands behind him in shock. “_Please!” _

He tries to scramble closer to Lucas, but slips in a puddle. He looks down, his jeans slippery and wet with a dark substance. With shaking fingers, Jungwoo silently lets go of Lucas’s shoulders and brushes a fingertip against the ground. It comes away bright red with slick blood. After a beat of stunned silence, he releases an ungodly howl and lunges for Lucas’s corpse again.

“_X__uxi!” _

“Jungwoo, _ stop! _ ” Kun lurches after the distraught boy, holding him back by the shoulders. He’s crying too, burying his face in the struggling boy’s back. “Please stop. He’s--” Kun cuts himself off with a sob, “He’s _ gone._”

“Who the _ fuck _ did this?!” Doyoung screams, fists clenched. No one corrects his language this time.

Chenle points a shaking finger to the roller coaster track high above them, centered directly over Lucas’s body. “C-could he have…?”

Fallen.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jaehyun gasps, “Renjun, you must’ve seen something!”

The group collectively turns to Renjun, who indeed was Lucas’s seatmate for the ride. His whole body is trembling violently, tears pouring.

“I don’t-- I don’t remember _ anything!_” he wails. Jeno and Jaemin rush to his side, followed by Donghyuck. They hold him close as he thrashes. “I swear-- I could’ve _ sworn _ he was right beside me the whole time! He even checked my safety belt, I-I don’t understand…” Renjun pleads with them, eyes wild, “_This is all my fault!” _

His boyfriends crowd closer to him, shushing him gently with wide eyes.

“I-it’s not your fault,” Taeyong starts but his voice cracks halfway through. He curses himself. This is the very opposite of strong and comforting. He really could use...Johnny...right now...

Taeyong’s nails dig into the soft skin of his palm. He feels like he’s going to throw up. This is not anyone’s fault but _ his _ . He should’ve gone right after Lucas, he should’ve been more careful, he should’ve watched them closer, god he fucked up, he fucked up and now one of his members, one of his _ brothers _, is laying in a pool of his own goddamn blood.

A hand grips Taeyong’s bicep, and he jumps, whirling around to face the perpetrator. He’s faced with a shaking Jaehyun, tears leaking from his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush his own away as he inspects Taeyong’s face.

“You’re blaming yourself. Stop doing that. None of us could have prevented this.”

“You don’t really think that, do you? There must’ve-- god, there must’ve been _ something _ we could’ve done!” Taeyong searches his eyes for reassurance. Luckily, he finds it.

“Listen, Yong. You are strong. You are capable. You are a good leader. You are not perfect, and sometimes things are just out of our control. You know what _ is _ in your control?”

“...What?”

“The here and now. The members we still have with us.” Taeyong flinches. The slight reference to Taeil and Johnny, whose disappearances are even more concerning now, doesn’t go unnoticed. “Focus on _ them._ Comfort them, take them away from here, keep them safe. That’s--that’s all we can do now.” It sounds like an immense effort for Jaehyun to hold back his tears.

Taeyong wishes he could be as strong as him.

“Y-You’re right.” he turns back to the group, prying Jungwoo off of Lucas, and herding them far away from the body, towards the back of the park. He isn’t sure where the safest place for them is right now. Sure, Lucas may have...passed...from a safety belt malfunction or something as situational as that, but what if that’s not all there was to it? What about the eccentric horror actors? Nothing is making any _ sense_.

Doyoung comes up to Taeyong in distress, poking angrily at his phone. Jungwoo is sitting in the corner, being comforting by all of the dreamies. He’s hyperventilating, hysterical and not responding to anyone.

Taeyong wants to approach Jungwoo, but the guilt in his chest is crushing him. How can he face Jungwoo knowing Taeyong was the cause of his boyfriend’s death?

“What’s wrong, Doyoung…” Taeyong says blankly, unable to thoroughly shake himself out of his shocked stupor.

“The phone. I’ve been trying to call 911 for the past fifteen minutes, and no one has service. What the fuck is going on?”

Taeyong whips out his phone, and sure enough, he doesn’t have cell service either. How strange, considering it was perfectly fine earlier on in the day...right? Actually, come to think about it, Taeyong had never noticed it earlier. Where the fuck were they?

“This means no 911, no calling for help...no texting Taeil or Johnny either.’ the realization hits Taeyong like a brick. “Fuck. We have to find them…” The unspoken _ what-if _echoes louder than any scream or wail ever could.

A few more minutes pass like that, Jungwoo having cried himself out entirely and passing out into Jaemin’s arms. The dreamies are still piled onto him and each other, sniffling into each other’s shoulders. The older members are huddled a ways away. They were trying to discuss further plans of action, but now have just fallen silent in despair.

Taeyong walks a few feet away from both groups, needing to clear his head a little bit. Suddenly, his phone beeps.

“What the fuck…” Taeyong says slowly. They have no service, he shouldn’t be able to send or receive messages. He unlocks the phone cautiously. He’s greeted with a string on incomprehensible texts from an unknown number.

_ P̵̡̡̩̗̝̺̯̝̹̼̙͔̻̽̾͆̊̈͊ͅL̵̡̩̈́̈́̿̄́̌̚͜͝͝E̷͍͉̥̟̭̯͓̳̎͂̾͒̌́̒̄͂́̽͝͝Ả̸͈͓̰̳͍̞̱̄̓͐͗̐Ş̴͉̻̈́̉̾ ̶̗̿͌̈́͊͛͌͛̃̅̚͠Ę̷̜̞̩̰̥̉̔͋͐̅̃ ̵̢̰̠̱̹̹͔͎̖̘͙͕͌͋͜͠Ḥ̶̨̞̭͔̞͚͖̰̘̄̇̃̾̂̊̎̕̕Ĕ̷̡̡̝̝̬̭͎̠̬̪̺̯̹͖̚̕̕L̶̛͈̥̈́͊͐̽̿̾̑̓̌̈́̕͠P̸̩̙̠̠͙̩̱̽̄̑͋̏͜͝ ̵̧̧̺͖̣̭͎̭̿M̶̨̖̼̱̥̰͕̻͙̮̗͝E̵̢̢̗̳̟͕͙̻͉͕̣̿̄͛̇̒̎̈́̓ ̷̮̳̏͝ͅP̴̗̜̠̰̜͕̘̃̐̇͗̈́̆̅͌͠L̴̰͚̝͎͍͖͚̐̐̓̌͘̕͠Ȩ̸̰̩̠̜͍̹͈̖͆̒̉̓̄̾̅́̐͒̔͘͠ͅA̸̡̛̛͖̦͖̜̬͍͎͓͓̰̅̏̈́͆̐̇̍̍̿͊͘͘S̸̨̨̢̛̮̥̥̘̙̩̟̞͎̥͕̿͐͛͂̓͆̒̿̽̚Ę̶̭̟͕̰̤͉̘̩͚̤͂̀͜͝ _

_ ̸̢̟͇̌̿͐̓̃̍̇͌͘ͅ ̵̢̢̛̞͕̥̰͌̄͌̆̅̀͐̉̓̕͠ͅI̷̛̹͈̥̗͍͔̥͖͛̌͆͛̈́͝ ̵̺͍̙̫̓̉̀̏͊̍̐͐̑̚̕͜ͅC̷̢̻̙̮͓̭̭͂͌̾́A̴̙̪̯̓̚ ̴͍̪̪̦̩͛͆͂̓̄̍̈͜N̸̢̜̜̟̏̆̃T̵̛̗̪̖̯̞̰̔̏͗̃̑͗̑̀͂͝͠ ̸̣̼͈͇̻̺̌̈̈̈́̆́̓̌̏̈̎C̵̢̩̺̤͆͆̇̊̏̀͊͊͐͐̉̈́͂Ǫ̴͍̤̲̼̟̰͚̗͒ͅŅ̴̗͓͉͈͚͙̈̄ͅT̸̞̘͔̩̜͖͎̃̂̂̑͘ͅO̸̡͎͍̠̼̟͈̺̠̰̫̐̓͗̿͘̕R̶̹̼̦͍̪̜͍̻̰̟̪͍̬͙͌͛̍̄͑̓̎̈́̎̄̆̏Ļ̶̡̡̤̳̳̞̠̳̼̣͚̏ͅ ̵̼̗͕̮̓͋Ĭ̴̢̦͇͖̤̤͇͖̞̌̈̊̾̏̈́͋̃̒̍̈͘͝T̵̪̼̠̜̫̪͔͍̙̦̘̥̙͌̍̽̄̊̓̾̊̈̋͛͝ ̴̧͔̮͍̲̞̜̗̝̺̝̜̪͋̋̇̀́̇ͅP̵̨͚̳̤͈̎͑͊̑̅̽̊͑͗̓͝ͅ _

_ ̴͕̟̦̜̭̝̇͒̃͆̋̓͜͝L̸̨̝͖̜̣̩̭̿̆͛Ë̷̢̜̠̥͙͓̙̘̰̜̟͖̣̠́̀̒͌A̶̡̰͈̟͖̔̍̓͂̉̄̂͊̇̽͝Ş̶̜̲͉̑̕M̵̬̗̒͑͂̋͐͌̅̒̒͛̏̆̕͘ ̵̨̼̜̫̼͕̻̣͖̬̮̝͇̿̿̂̓̃͌̃̍̓̒̎̈̓̈́J̶̜͍̲̺͘ͅĘ̴̔͛̓̂̋́̌̽͘̚͝ͅP̸̧̹̙̜͙̝̹̤͎̙͔͖̤̤̽̍̍͗̏̔̚Ä̶̗̞̲̘̪̗̼͕͆̀̿̅̎͐̈́͜L̴̡̤̪͋̃͂͊͆̈͌̚͝͝͝͝͠S̷̗͎̮̩̙̩̺̦̦̺ ̵̨̨̭͕̟͓͍̼̫̺͍̥̻͈̀͐͋̔́̓̂̌̿̂̓͝͝Ě̴̥̱̞͂̊̚[̷̺̤̳̥̖͎̺͓͈̓͐̋͑̈́̊̏͂̕͜͜;̶̢̧͚̺̥̺̳̗̝͙̌́̑̇͂͑̑̕͝E̷̘͓̖͗̈̄̈̏̋̓Ļ̷̧̡̢̛͚͖͙̻͓͚̲͎̩͔͗͌̈́̓̂͠Ä̵̡͈͕͍͉͕̹́̈́͜Ş̶̪͕̞͕̩̥͙̯̗̣̻̌̍͂̌̾͆̃͠ͅE̴͔͆̉̇̾̎̾̿͂͛̀͘͝ ̷̨̛̲̳̪̺̟̖̠̲̫͇̘̲ _

_ ̶̫̹̆̈́̈́̃̊͝P̴̪̙͙̗̗͙͖͈͑̿̈́͘̚L̵̲̤̇̈́̒͛̉̃̐̊̕̕͝͝Ȩ̴̰̻̹͈͕͉͔̦͖̠̲̉͗̉͂̎̅̐͗͋̈́͒̽͝Ą̵̲͔̜͔̝̜̐̇͘͜S̶̬̘̰̻̯̙̘̒́͆̂͌̐͒̈́̚͝Ė̴̮͉͛͒̑̈͌̎̃͊̊̂̓̚ ̵͍͖͖̟̹͈͙̰͍̘̼̻̰̀̄̈̓͗̐̈̈́͂͆͊̽̚̕Ȟ̷̨̬̠̼͖̓͂͂͋̓̊̑͒̂̄́͠L̴̛̟͋͛͆̈̕P̴̭͓̙̟̬̟̰̘̓̽̐̒̄͌̋͂̃̕̚͘͠Ẹ̸̾͒̌̋̇̎̊̈̉̈́̍̕ ̴͓͉͉͔̈̈́̆̂͒̇̓̕͝Ḩ̵̝̬̺̩̙͓̣̓̔͗̃̾̒̀̄͝Ê̸̡̘̪̞͍̳̭̗̖̮̼͋̊̑̿̽̆͜͝͠L̸̘͈͇͕̬̞͚̾͆͌͛̌̅̈́̚͠ ̷̨̨̨͕͍̩͎͚͖̅̔̌͆͌͊̊P̴̨͕̙͈̰̳̹̲̬̞̯͓̼̀̋̉͌͠ _

“What in the _ hell _ is this nonsense?” Taeyong watches with wide eyes as more texts bubble up onto the screen.

_ P̴̱͕̜̐̀̌̀͘ͅL̶̨̢͉̝̥̦̗̃̌̊͌̈́̓̍̓͊͊͗͛̿͊̄̃͆̄̚̕͠͝E̵̬̣̲͓̦̥̖̳̼̯̯͚͎͘A̴̢̞̼͓͈͙̩̺̪̣̦̤̗̿͆̒̆̂̆̾͐̂̓͘ ̴̞̩̤̹͖̭̤̬̝̖̳͙͎̏͌̊̔S̴͇͉̀̃̐̽͊̾̔̈́́͊̓̉͛̈̊̈́̚͠͝Ẽ̸̢̡̲̻͚̤͈̼̩͚̖̲̖̌̿̀̾̋̆̔̆̅̽͗͊͆̽͋̾͛̋̅̚̕ͅP̷̨̤̙̲̭͇̙͎͖̯̺͎͖̣̖͇̜̜͛̊̏͜͠ͅL̷̨̨̛̠̭̳͇͍̻̗͎͉̳̹̘̻͕̗̝͚͙͈̼͂̿̎ _

_ ̶̧̘͈̤͕̹̬͇̱̣̦͚̠͆̆͗̌̍̋̆̄̋͛͒̉̓̽̽̾̕Ą̴̧̧̛͚̪̦̞͔̟̭̞͇̩͈̣͎̬̲̖̠̜͓̟͂͆͐̔̌͆̓͒̊̎̋̔̔̓͑̑̇̕̕̕͠S̴̩̥̰̪̯̜͓̿̇͒͛͂͂̇̾͊͆̇̄̉̈́͑̏͂ ̸̪͖̟̥̺̤͔͕͇̫̼͇͙̙̜͔͔̟̖̟̀̒͜ͅÊ̶̢̨̫͚̻̰͖͉̯͙̬̥̦͔̮̞̍̐̿͊͆̽͌̿̈́͛̀̉̓͐̔̄̐̀͆̕͝P̶̨̜̥͈͖̙͈͚͎̈́͌̉̾̀͊̈́̔͝͝L̵̡̡͔̲̖͙̮̗̺̮̼̦͉͎̗̩̙̟̳̼͍̰͋̂̑͂́͌̂͆̉͋̄̈́́̀̒̈́͛̑͆͘͘Ě̶͇̺̪͇̭̮̙̹̭̼̗͚̺̽͐͒̉̈́͋̈͒̕ͅÃ̴̻̭͂͌͐̽̽̈́͗̈̈́̽͗̏͂̎̈̉̈́̈́̕̕͜Ş̶̡̥̠̖̝̭̹̭̦͇̥͆͛̐͆͘ ̴̛̛͓̲͐̒̓͊̆̎͗̆̊͂̇͆̚W̴̡̡̡̮̗̙̯̹̻̼̤̯̞̞̗̋̀̌͐͒́̾̔͒I̵̭͊̒̏̌̓̑̕͘͠ͅ ̴̛͇̎̿͑̾̊̍̀͗̇̚̚̚͝D̵̡̢̝̫̬͕̺̬̭̺̹̦̓̈́̃̍̈̎͛͗̍̓̓̚͜͜͠͝O̸̟͍̯̙̜̞͎͈̥̼͇̠͕̅͆̒͊̔͛͗͝ͅǸ̷̨̲̟̙̜̯̻̗̤̝̪͙͎̫̇̈́̅͑̐̚̚T̸̆̌̀̀͐͜͠ ̷̢̗̫͙͓̮͎͇̱̊̃͛͂̅̿̔́̀̐̓̌͌͌̓͗̑̕͘͝͝W̴̢̛̪̜̘̎̿͑̆͊́̓̔̍̍̈́̉̽͋͗̔̓̊̾͝H̷͖̹͖͉̦̳͍̲̙̔͑̈́̄͛̒̍̓̃̈͗̈́͂̾͌̓̄̄̅̚͘͠͝ͅÄ̷͖̞̺̪̫̝̩̻̺͍̬͙̱̹̦͕̋̔͛̔͑̈̋͊̀͂̕͝͝͝ͅT̶̢̰̝̝̮͖̤̲̉̄͂̌̇̉͂̓͐͌̌̊̅͝N̸̰̮̪͔͆̇̋͘̕ ̶̨̟̳̼̙̱͖̬͙̩͍͇̈̈́̍͂͂̆̈́T̵͖̗̝͇͈̦͉͙̥͚͓̟̲̥̱̞̭̾͌̒̐̿̌͗̽̈́̐̓̈́͜O̶̧̨̦̩̭̲̭̮̅̈́̈́̅͒̈́ ̶͔͉̀͆͛͛̔̈́̕͘͠J̸̨͓̙̙̱̠̦̜͙͈̗̰̻͉̖̥̩̄̉̑̿̌͜Ū̸̫̘̬̱̗̖͇͌̇̐͊͐̌́͐̒̿̚͝͝Ȑ̷̡̢͎̗̣̘̰̹̣͕̻̩̺͚͚̘̥̞̳̠̂̏̒͒̃̃̄̃̃̊̅͘͘̚͝͠ͅT̵̻̣͖̠͉͇͇͓̖̼̂͗̉͋͐̈͑͗̒͑͑͐̎̋̔̌͋͒̎̑͝ ̶̨͇̰͕͙̞̫̓̉̾̔͆̆̾̋͐̎̽̿̆̾͂̊͝͝A̴͔̝͓̬͇̻͔̔͑̕ͅǸ̵̡̢̘͈̩̱̬̭̞̻̮͕̖̻͙͔͊̐̈̌̏͂̐͛̏̃̒̆̅͒̚͜͝ͅỶ̸̢̗̦̤͍̯̹̖̪͇̝̮͙͇͉̠̘͍̼͛͗͆̉̀̉͊́̓̃͒̐͘͝O̵̗̿̂̏͒N̸̰͎̙͎̗̖̦̻̑̑̒̉̈́͐͑̆̐̕E̴̡̢̧̧̛̦̘̻͉̭̮̘̻͙͓̯̜͕͖͉̱̱͕̲͌̔͐̈͛̈́̿̚̚ ̷̡̹͍̦̠̜͉͚͍̩̟̮͔͙͇̜̪͍̣̃̑̀ͅͅÎ̴̡̝̹͉̲̮̦̯̇̃͋͂̄̒̀͌̆͑̏̐̓͛̊ ̴̮̥̯̗̘͙͙̮͓̲͆̆̌Ḑ̴̨̝̳̞̰̝͎̝̣̫͚̪̠͙̦̙̓̀͛͐̿͗͊͑̓̽͗̎̎̄̌̉̏͐̄͂͠͠Ǫ̸̢̨̨̖̦̼̙̲̱̹̦͕͖͎͚̣̗̭̚͜N̵͍̱͓̅̔͐̀̈́͛̅̏̾̓̅͜ ̵̨̮͓̰̫̮̬͈̖̪͕̜͎̫̻̻̪͙͖͐̄͗̊͒̉͆̐͒̐̊͛̑͂͗̓̐̐̊̍̈́̕̚T̶͚̲̂̏͂̈̉͊̉̄̇̊͌̄̍͊͌̚̕ ̴̫͇͖̤̹͉͎̫͕̮͍̼̝̺̟̗̱̜̥͔̟͈̓͐̽̅͌͋̐̋̀̒͛̈́͊̚͝͝͠͝ _

_ ̵̡̪̺͎̙͎̖̰͉͉̟̫͔̗̖̳͛̆͐̍́̉͑̆̄̐̍͘͜͝͝W̵̗̼̹̘̜̙̗̤̥̗͙̳͆̂͋̔̾͐̓̍̏̕̕ͅǸ̸̛̤͎͙̦̯̖̗̭͍̠̖̮̙̼̄̈̈́̄̿̂͘͝T̵̢̟͕̥͙̲̲͎̪̘̼͕̱̹͓͕̹͍̩̣̒̅͌̿̆̏̇̍͑͋̄̀̊̑̑̍͑͗͐͜ ̴̢̨̛̮̻̝͉̭̝͙̫͚̪͇̫̻̬̳͇͔͚̎͑̂̄́̂͗̆͒̾̄͘̚͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͝͝T̸͖̹̥̜̅̿̓̀̀̇̈́͌̂͂̆́̔̕ͅƠ̷̡̡̢͖̼̙̘̟̬̙͈͕̱̹̓͂̔̾̅̒̅̔͌̃̈̇̇̃̆̈̿͜͝͠ ̷̳̼̫̲̼͇̖̀̓̀̐̄͆͋̾̇̉͒̆̿̏̔̽̈́̿̓̕Ḩ̸̨̜̖̯̮̲͎̦̭͍̙̪̊̄͌̓̄̂̾̾͌͗̅̃̉̓̂̎̕̕Ų̷̡̡̧͇͍̮̺̼̳͉̩͍̝̖͕̟̱̒̽̈̓̉͋ͅR̶̛̘͔̔̊͊͊̈́̐͑̽̋͆̆̓̇̆͘͠T̷̨̹́ ̵̨̣̤̜̠̼̬̼̫͍̩̜̹̲̣̱͓͈̬͓͙̳̇͠Y̴̨̮͈̝̻̰̪̬̝͚̞̜͔̗͉̥̟̭͖͋̐͐́̒́̿̌̊̉͒̌͐͋͛̀̿̓̽̕Ō̴̡̻̣̞͉͎̤͇̣̙̲̯̤̱̱̣̩̼̃̂͐͊̈̈́̊̃͂̽̈́̏̈̕͘͜͠͝͠Ṹ̸̡̫̙̜̼̹̅͊̈͊̈́̉̓̉̇̕͠ ̶̨̢̳͎̙͕͉͙̜̮̹̟͇͛͊͐̂̃̎̇̋̀͐́̎̇͋̕̕͝ͅ _

_ ̸͙͚̙̰̭͈͓͇̲͔́̃̈́̓̈̽̊͗́̈́͆̏̎͌̉̉͂̚̚͜P̴̛̩̬̘̲̳̥̣̋͋̓͒̃́́̆͂̕͜ͅĘ̵̫̮̦͔̤̤͖̳̲̜̞̼̤̫̱́͑͌̇̅͆̈́͊̓͗͒̈́͊̅̈́͜͠͠͝͝͝L̸̨̫̻͇̥̺̫͇̜̈̏͆̌̏̚͠͠͠͠Ạ̴̫̜̗̜̩̠̻͚̼̱̞̮̮̦̹͙̬̞̎̎̎͌͛̊͆̚ͅS̷̨̢̧̳̞̜͕͉̖̙̠̱̹̜̝͓͓̥̠̒̌͗̃̈͗͒͜͝ ̴̢̨̨̗̺̥̝͈͓̞͖͚͍͙̪̩͆̉̑̌͛̄Ȩ̸̡̨̳͚̙̗̳̺̮̼̞̈́͐̐ ̸̢͉̫̼̮̞̩̜͕̬̯̯͖͙͈̠̲̠̐͊̿́̊̇̈̈́͆̈́̓̎͋̏̾͘̚͜͝͝H̸̛̗̺̱͙̥͇̗̰̲͉̺̙̘̮͔̝̯̎̒̍̇̚̕Ȩ̷̝͎̬͇̦͓̫̙̺̝͈͎̝̜̺̤̻̲̻̗̔͂̓̂͒̎́̋͑̕͝͝ͅḺ̵̢̯̠̳̩̈́͂̌̏̊͌̐̔̔̂̇̾̔͋̏̍̎̈̽̊͝͝ͅͅP̸̧̨̛̟̠̤̻̙͈̼̥̝̦̤̆̈́̐͛͂͋͆̏͊̌̈͌̇̏̐̍ ̶̡̢͖̹̖͔̗̤̤̤͔̹̞͖͎̝͂̓͒͑͋̾̇̇̆̓̄́̕͝͝͠I̵̡͓̥͎͚͈̖̩͎̦̠͔̟̲͆̑̽̓̔̊̽̈̈̎̊̏̀̽̌̓͒̕͘͠ ̵̧̩̖̻̟̣̬̮̱͕̞͙͊͑̅͂͊̂͋̓̌̍̋̋̇̍͂̓̚͝C̷̗̿̆́͐̎͝Ă̴̧̛̩̹͍̱̜̭͎̰̫̟̫̟̲̈́͋̔̎̑̿͋̇̈̈́͆̉̀̅̐͐̅͘̕͜Ņ̵̄͋͆̅̑̄́̓͆͛̄͊̃̈͠͠N̴̢̛̟̬̭̱̠̬͙̜̹̺͊̾̍̔̆͗̔̂̌̓͐̌̕͝͠Ț̷̨̢̨͉̫̟̟͇̮̽͌͒̌̿͂̀̏͛̕̚͝ ̵̢̡̨̣͓͖̦͓̗͕̩̠̼̖̠̩͖̯͋̉̓́̓͂̀̃̕S̸̨̞̯͎̠̦̫̲̫͉̣͈͚͐̂̋̓͗͋̽̍̌̓̾͜͝ͅT̴̨̧̹̥̝̤̰͔̘̞͉̖̖̪̰̋̎̈́̌̈̆̄͗̌̃͊̄͊͗͗̉͗͊̐̚̚O̷̧̧̲̝̮̟̮͈̺͉̼͖̹͇̭̜̠̪̯͍̯͚̽͒͗͛̍͆̍͊͒͜͝P̵̯̞̺͔̻̖͖̰͌̀͛̐͑̈́̿̾̓͊̑͛̈̚͘͝͝͝ ̵̢̨̲͍̝̦̿̽̚ _

_ ̶͔͔̥̲̱̤̥̝̜̗̼̦̄͛̆̉̊̌̓̾̍͂͋̈́̎̒̌̄̾̓͐̿͘ͅͅḨ̶͕̕͝E̶̢̡̢̖̙̥̻̙̤̦̖̬͖̭͙̤̙͉̎́̈́̔̓̈́̑̄͌̏̓̓̎̆̏̎͐́͆͘̕ͅR̴̰̫̝̞̘͎͈̳̬̱͙̊͗͗̄̈́ _

He waits for a few moments, but it seems like there’s no more texts, at least for now. What in the world…? Taeyong nervously clutches his phone to his chest and peers around at the little site. What the fuck is he supposed to do with this information? Everyone has already been through so much, he probably can’t possibly burden them more with what’s probably just an evil phone glitch or a hacker or even just a wrong number...but what if it’s more than that?

_ DON’T SAY ANYTHING? _

_ [→ Chapter 15](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744664) _

_ TELL SOMEONE? _

_ [→ Chapter 34 [WARNING: ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745078) _


	8. eight.

_ KEEP GOING _

_ → Selected! _

“Trust me.” Taeyong begs, fingers curling around Lucas’s upper arm. “We need to fin-- finish this. _ Properly._”

Lucas huffs in frustration. He eyes Jaehyun, who hasn’t moved yet. _ Yet. _ “Fine. But if he comes after you again, I won’t hesitate to bash this board over his head.”

Taeyong gulps. They’ll have to make it quick, if the silence from the other side of the room is any indication. Lucas gently lifts Taeyong onto the bench, switching spots with him so that Taeyong is sandwiched between Lucas and Jeno. Whatever was...speaking through Jaehyun said that he was Jaehyun’s weak spot. He’s the one with the target on his back.

Taeyong places his fingers back on the planchette, which has frozen right over one of the wolf’s eyes. It spasms back and forth in tiny motions.

“What’s your plan?” Chenle asks with wide hopeful eyes, trying to avoid looking at the finger shaped bruises pressed into the flesh of Taeyong’s neck. They’re all panicking, unsure how much time they have before Jaehyun lashes out again. Taeyong wishes he could sweep them all under his arm and take them far, far away from here.

_ The plan. The plan. I have a plan right? _ Taeyong thinks dizzily, trying to sift through the hazy fog shrouding his mind to find any useful bits of information. What does he know?

Jaehyun is being tormented by a spirit or demon, or something of the sort. He’s struggling to fight it off, seems like he has been for quite some time. He had an intense aversion to the Ouija game. His phone works when no one else’s does. What else, what else?

_ Taeyong doesn’t have the energy to confront him about what he’s doing-- not even when he swears he catches Yuta’s pale face staring at him from Jaehyun’s dim screen. _

He’s been taking photos of them all night, even when they were back in the bus. He took a photo of Taeyong, but he deleted it.

Taeyong, his weak spot.

“His phone has something to do with it. I don’t…I don’t know what exactly, but we have to close the session and then destroy it, or something. It’s…” Taeyong rubs at his throat. “It’s a start.”

Donghyuck’s shoulders tense. He’s sweating, casting nervous glances over to Jaehyun’s shivering form. “I’m pretty sure to close the portal, we have to move it to ‘Goodbye’.” He pushes experimentally at the planchette, but it doesn’t budge. “There’s an insane resistance here, I don’t know if we can force it to Goodbye, but we can try. We run the risk of trapping whatever is here with us in our realm, but if we properly dispose of the board afterwards we can hopefully break its hold.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.” Taeil presses his lips together.

_ We have no other choice. _ No one says it out loud, but the sentiment rings clear through the room. 

“Spirit, demon-- whatever you are-- we no longer wish to speak with you.” Donghyuck’s voice cracks, betraying his anxiety. “Leave us alone, and release your hold on our friend. Goodbye.” He spits the last word with as much venom as he can muster, starting to push the planchette towards Goodbye.

Taeyong’s pretty sure the spirit needs to move it in order to signal that they plan on leaving, but he can’t give two shits about technicalities when his boyfriend is fighting for his life mere feet from him. He squeezes his eyes shut as he presses at the planchette.

Mark shudders. “This feels horrible…”

Taeyong understands. He can feel the crushing weight of the room pressing his ribcage into his pierced heart. He can feel something ghastly slithering through his veins, tar sludging through his body and slowly poisoning his addled mind. He can feel phantom fingers wrap around his throat, teasing him with promises of oblivion as they prick at his jugular.

He can feel Jaehyun looming behind him. 

“Please,” Taeyong whimpers as the planchette moves ever closer to the edge of the board. “Please, leave us alone!”

The moment the planchette brushes Goodbye, Taeyong swears the wolf winks at him. 

_ “Taeyong!” _

Taeyong grunts as he’s yanked off the bench. He can’t hear the howling and sobbing as his brothers spring from the table, can’t feel the pounding of footsteps on the rotting wood. The world tilts and and distorts around him, the floor melting into the pools of slick black blood and the walls twisting into horrible funhouse mirrors, reflecting Doyoung’s smashed in face back to him wherever he looks. Jisung is injecting toxic words through his ears, begging for his life back. Kun, Ten, Sicheng, and Johnny circling his crumbling form like vultures waiting for a feast.

_ I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you all. _

Taeyong thrashes as a clammy hand pins his neck to the ground, squeezing the blood thick air out of his lungs. Freezing fingers gently trace the curve of Taeyong’s face, dotting over his gaunt cheekbones and fluttering over his swollen eyelids. 

“Stop, stop, we need to help him! Taeyong, can you hear us?!”

They travel up into his hair, affectionately combing out the tangles as the other hand crushes Taeyong’s throat into the floor. Someone is sobbing. Dizzily, Taeyong feels the fingers slowly leave his face, tracing his collarbone and resting over his heart-- digging deep, deep into his pleading heart. 

“But we can’t stop him!”

Taeyong can’t remember where he is. He grapples with the hands with black spots obscuring his vision, but he’s not sure why. 

“We have to! He’s going to die!”

Wouldn’t it be easier to let go? The hands are so strong, so impossibly strong and the touch so, so familiar. 

“Break it! _ End it!” _

“Jae.” Taeyong breathes, bleary eyes barely able to make out Jaehyun’s blurry form perched atop his fragile body, blood matting his hair to his forehead as he hangs his head. He’s completely still, as if his insides were plucked out and his shell was left to rot. Harsh red lines mark up his body where he tore at his own skin with unforgiving nails, bruises flowering over his ghostly pale skin. There are hands pulling and shoving at his body, desperate fists beating down upon him, but it’s as if they aren’t even there. Taeyong’s lip trembles as he struggles to pull enough air into his lungs to scrape words through his vocal cords. “J--”

A single tear splashes onto Taeyong’s cheek as searing pain erupts in his side.

“_TAEYONG!” _ Someone howls over the sound of wood splintering. The clawed hands around his throat abruptly disappear, but it seems like all the air in the room has fled. Chest heaving, Taeyong collapses to the side. There’s a horribly metallic taste singing the back of his throat, shudders wracking his frail body. It pulses in his mouth. He spits, and a thick substance dribbles onto his hands.

“Oh god, Taeyong!” Warm hands brush over him, propping him up slightly. Mark is crying, his wavering voice filtering slowly into Taeyong’s consciousness. Taeyong brings his hands away from his mouth, staring in horror at the vermillion blood coating his fingertips.

Muscles spasming, Taeyong’s eyes travel to the burning in his side. It’s pain of a caliber he could have never fathomed, as if a hot poker was pressed to his skin for hours, blistering until his flesh sloughed off the bone. 

Taeyong’s shallow breaths catch in his chest as his trembling fingers trail along the sharpened stick protruding from his stomach.

The searing anguish leeches away Taeyong’s cloudy mind. He can just see Jungwoo and Taeil restraining Lucas and Yuta respectively, as they go rigid. Jaehyun is a mere foot or so away from him, tearing at his hair as he wails to the heavens. He’s clawing at his eyes again. Behind him, Renjun stands with the board snapped in two, frozen in absolute horror at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

With the last of his ebbing strength, Taeyong wrenches Mark away from Jaehyun’s reach. “The _ phone_!” He croaks, his weak words barely traveling across the thickness of the room.

Taeyong’s unfocused stare bores into the floor by his side, fascinated at the way the pool of blood under his body seems to grow by the second.

The room launches into action as if a spell was broken. Chenle snatches the board from Renjun, snapping it again and again over his knee until the tiny wooden pieces spray out from his hands, littering the floor. A garbled scream tears itself from Jaehyun’s throat, blood spattering across the room as he curses them. His body convulses, writhing as if something in his chest was trying to burst out from his mouth. The speed picks up, Jaehyun slamming himself into the ground again and again, shrieking horribly.

“You can’t get rid of me! I’ll crush your skulls and plunge my fist into your chest and rip your beating heart out! YOU’LL DIE DIE DIE YOU’LL ALL DIE JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM YOU’LL D--”

Jeno grabs the phone from where it slide from Jaehyun’s pocket, grinding his heel into the screen until it’s reduced to tiny bits of glass and hardware. 

Jaehyun immediately goes limp, collapsing next to Taeyong’s body. For a horrible few minutes, no one speaks. No one dares to move. Then--

“Yongie…” Jaehyun’s raspy voice rings through the room as if he’d screamed, dread creeping into the veins of all who listen. Taeyong’s eyes drift closed to the sight of Jaehyun crawling towards him on unsteady limbs, blood soaked fingers cupping his cheek.

“Jae…” Taeyong’s head rolls back, meeting the floor. Each word singes his throat, and he’s so, so _ tired. _ “Did we do it?”

“Yongie,” Jaehyun’s horror stricken face hovers above him, round eyes shining with clarity. Relief rips through Taeyong at the warm familiarity in Jaehyun’s eyes. 

“What happened? W-What happened to you?!” Tears pour down Jaehyun’s flushed face as his panicked hands finds Taeyong’s wounds. “O-Oh my god, oh my god-- what h-have I done?!” He hiccups through his sobs, desperately pressing his hands into the stab wound to stop the bleeding. Taeyong groans as another wave of pain ripples through him. Everything feels so far away, like he’s watching through a screen. A pleasant numbness fills his head and his body, everything around him fizzling into the abyss.

He’s so tired. He can almost hear Kun’s soothing voice again.

Taeyong’s cry seems to snap Lucas into action. “Get that fucker away from him!” He hollers, throwing himself at Jaehyun’s crumpled form. Jaehyun is sobbing uncontrollably, burying his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck. He frantically tries to hold Taeyong tight, to shield him from danger.

_ Does he remember, _ Taeyong wonders, hand slipping from Jaehyun’s grip as the boy is ripped away from him, _ that he is the danger? _

“I’m sorry, baby I’m so-- s-so sorry, please be okay! please forgive me, I’d never hurt you-- n-never I could _ never_, please--” Lucas shoves Jaehyun to the side, restraining him as the rest of Taeyong’s boys flood around him.

“You’re all okay?” Taeyong’s words slur together, head lolling on his neck despite the frequent attempts to prop him up. His body is giving out, flesh melting into the floor.

“Yeah.” Jaemin’s eyes shimmer with tears. “We’re okay. You did it, Taeyong. You saved us.”

An overwhelming sense of peace washes over Taeyong as he relaxes into the floor. “Good…” he trails off, senses dulled save for an eerie pulsing in his ears. He can’t even feel his side anymore. Where was he, again?

Deaf to the sobs of the boys clustered around him, Taeyong allows himself to be welcomed by the darkness with a smile on his face.

After all, he swears he can see six figures waiting for him.

  
  


_________________________

_ Even when I extend my hand I can’t reach you _

_ The darkness that is rising _

_ Let’s wake up! _

_________________________

Burning.

Taeyong’s eyes are burning. Peeling them open, he groans at the blindingly bright ceiling. He moves to rub at his eyes, but hisses as the motion jerks something in his arm. For the first time, he takes a good look at the room-- and the chirping heart monitor beside him.

“I’m in a hospital.” Taeyong tells the ceiling. Or maybe he tells Sicheng-- wasn’t he here just a second ago? “How did I get here?”

He waits, but Johnny doesn’t respond.

It’s Jungwoo who visits him first, curling up in a chair by his side.

“I figured it’d be Jaehyun.” Taeyong says monotonously. Jaehyun is alive, right? He’s sure of it. Isn’t he?

Ten giggles. _ Isn’t he? _

Jungwoo flinches at the name. “The doctor said we could only go one at a time so as to not overwhelm you. We...we decided we should talk to you first, just in case something...happens.”

Taeyong plays with his fingers. “Okay.” He lets the word hang in the air for a moment, waiting for Jungwoo to fill in the silence.

“They said I’d be the best at this.” Jungwoo starts. Taeyong nods, but Jungwoo doesn’t continue. After a few beats, he drops his gaze to his hands, peeling at some loose skin. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to say, to be honest.”

“Please, tell me it was all a dream.” Taeyong lays his head back onto his pillow, absorbed in the sparkling lights above him. They look like stars. “Tell me everyone’s okay.”

He doesn’t need an answer, hand wandering to the bandages at his side. 

He waits, but Jungwoo doesn’t respond.

_________________________

Jungwoo later informs him that he had passed out from severe blood loss. Jaehyun, apparently, had gone completely catatonic afterwards, refusing to speak to anyone other than the comatose Taeyong. They were all in a state of disarray, but managed to get to the front of the park. Taeil, it seems, was the one to pull them all together. A watery smile tugs at the corners of Taeyong’s lips. He always knew he could rely on Taeil.

“You were right,” A tear slips down Jungwoo’s nose. “The-- There were gates, but whatever else Doyoung and Johnny saw...it wasn’t true. I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you.”

Taeyong’s heart seizes in his chest. All this tragedy...and for what? He lays a hand over Jungwoo’s. “Is-- is everyone okay? Lucas and Yuta especially, are they dealing with any…side effects?”

“I don’t know.” Jungwoo stares blankly at the wall. Suddenly, he snaps his neck towards Taeyong, looking imploringly into his eyes. “Listen, thank you for trusting Lucas-- for protecting us. I don’t know where to go from here, but as soon as you come back home...I think we’ll all begin to heal.”

_ Healing sounds nice, _ Taeyong thinks as drowsiness tugs his eyes shut again. “I want to see Jaehyun.” He slurs.

“You will.”

“I want to go home.”

“You will.”

_ Home sounds nice, too_. 

Doyoung has been standing in the corner for the last few hours. He must be tired. Maybe he’ll come home with them.

_________________________

Healing, as it turns out, is not an easy process. Even after all the funeral proceedings, all the scholarships, all the special plaques and monuments and donations and special tributes to their lost loved ones, something hollow still gnaws at Taeyong’s chest. It’s something that might never go away, but as Taeyong watches over the remains of his family, he thinks that it’s not supposed to. He carries the memories of their fallen in his heart at all times. Though it may be painful, it’s better than truly losing them-- forgetting.

They visit the graves regularly. It’s almost too painful to bear at first, but they slowly become accustomed to catching the others up with daily life. Chenle hangs out by Jisung’s grave the most, bringing him his favorite snacks and even saving silly memes he thinks the boy might like.

Moving on is difficult, but Taeyong just keeps a careful eye out for his brothers and allows the grief to run its course.

He doesn’t mention the way he swears he catches glimpses of Ten in the bathroom mirror, or how Sicheng’s figure sometimes turns at the end of the hallway, just out of reach. He doesn’t talk about the nightmares, the guilt, or the venomous words that slink into the corners of his brain. He doesn’t talk about the phantom feelings of fingers around his throat or sharp wood sticking out of his side that return when the sun dips below the horizon.

Taeyong looks at the business card in his hands. It’s a little bent and broken, but that’s okay. Maybe therapy is worth a shot.

This, too, shall pass, as all things do.

_________________________

“M’sorry,” Jaehyun rolls over in bed, one arm draped over Taeyong’s body. The red glow of the clock burns four am into their corneas. “I know I hurt you. I know I hurt a lot of people, but I don’t remember anything…”

_ It’s better that way_. Taeyong bites the words back in his mouth. He settles for a whispered “I know,” because what more can he do?

Jaehyun presses his shaking body into Taeyong’s back, clutching him as if he may crumble to ash at any moment. His fingertips find the scar marring Taeyong's torso, and he flinches away as if burned. A tear drips onto Taeyong’s shoulder, then another.

“I’m sorry I was so weak.” Jaehyun draws in a shuddering breath. “I had no idea Lele and Jisungie were playing that damn game while I was in the room, I didn’t know that made me vulnerable to whatever they invited in. But _ it _ got in me, and I was too weak to even understand. I can’t get the feeling of it out of my head...it feels like it ripped a part of me out with it. I don’t know exactly who I am now, Yongie, but I want to try.” He hiccups. Taeyong turns around, embracing him tightly. He runs his fingers through his hair, hushing him as the boy sobs. “I want to be better. I want you all to trust me again. I- I _ will _ be better.”

“You already are better.” Taeyong soothes him, and it's true. He can already see the light springing back into Jaehyun’s eyes these days, his famed dimpled smile gracing his face for more than a mere few seconds at a time. He’s slowly becoming more comfortable with the rest of the boys again, once they proved to him that they weren’t terrified of his presence. “It wasn’t your fault.”

With Jaehyun’s strong hand clasped in his, Taeyong feels like his words ring true.

“We’ll be okay.”

_________________________

Lucas corners him one day, eyes wide with worry. Taeyong’s stomach churns at the suspicion lurking in the curves of Lucas’s face, unsettled by the slant of his eyebrows. They’re huddled right outside Jaehyun and Taeyong’s room, Taeyong’s hand still lingering on the doorknob. They can just see a Jaehyun-sized lump in the bed from beyond the cracked door.

“Do you actually trust him? Even after...even after everything?”

_ He gulps a bit, drawing Jaehyun’s attention. “You scared?” Jaehyun teases lightly. _

_ “...Maybe a bit.” _

_ Jaehyun holds out his hand. “Do you trust me?” _

“With my life.” Taeyong says, staring at Jaehyun’s still form.

_________________________

It all seems to click into place on a rather uneventful morning.

Jaemin drags a sleepy Renjun out of bed, the grumpy boy looking like the world has wronged him for simply making him exist before noon. Jaemin playfully messes with Renjun’s bedhead, getting his pre-coffee wrath turned upon himself. Mark and Donghyuck are bickering again, switching the television channels back and forth because they’re too stubborn to admit they want to watch the same thing. Jeno sits peacefully at the table, doodling onto a napkin as he waits for Yuta to finish cooking his pancakes. Chenle sits beside him, swinging his legs and squishing his cheek against Jeno’s arm. He’s just redyed his hair to a brilliant shade of orange, and Taeyong swears his smile has gotten a little bit brighter too.

Yuta’s got a dumb Kiss the Cook apron on that Sicheng gave to him as a gag gift a few Christmases ago. It was supposed to be a joke, but it fit Yuta’s cheesy personality enough to force him to learn how to cook so he has an excuse to wear it.

Taeyong was worried about Yuta and Lucas especially, as they had struggled with being influenced by...whatever they had been dealing with. Yuta had more blood on his hands, causing him to retreat far into himself for a number of months after the incident. With time, therapy, and love, however, he’s begun to open up once again. It wasn’t easy integrating either Yuta or Lucas fully back into the group, as they held a lasting inherent distrust of themselves and their mental stability. Yuta in particular was terrified of losing control, but he looks lighter and lighter as time erodes his fears away and his family proves their love to him. It’s not his fault. 

It’s not anyone’s fault.

Lucas and Jungwoo are bent over a crossword puzzle from the morning paper. Jungwoo scowls, vigorously scratching out one of Lucas’s solutions. “A three letter word for an all powerful holy figure is _ not _‘EXO’, ‘Cas. You’re going to mess it all up.”

Lucas pouts and nuzzles his face into Jungwoo’s hair. “But, like, it _ could _ be!”

Taeil is doing a funky little wiggle of his over by the coffee machine, yawning as he flaps his arms in the air to the beat of music only he can hear. Taeyong smiles when he recognizes the mug in the machine— it’s one of their favorites, a group souvenir from a trip to Lotte World several years back.

Jaehyun’s hand slips into his, the boy’s chin resting on Taeyong’s shoulder. “Morning, Yongie,” he greets tiredly. His skin is warm and healthy against Taeyong’s, the bulging green veins and sickly skin that once stretched over his bones seeming dimensions away. 

“Are you okay, Taeyongie?” Chenle asks through a mouthful of eggs. He tilts his head, cheeks bulging cutely like a chipmunk. The rest of the boys simmer down a little bit and turn nervous gazes on Taeyong. 

Taeyong stops short, mind whirring. _ Is _he okay? The ghosts of his sins do seem to haunt him less and less these days. He sleeps more, as do the rest of them. The gaps at their table are as present as ever, but somehow they no longer drag Taeyong down with sharp claws and blood curdling screams. 

Of course it still hurts, but as Taeyong leans over to ruffle Chenle’s vibrant hair, something bright blossoms in his chest-- something young and just budding, but full of hope for the future. Taeyong tentatively allows it to take root in his rotting chest, spreading promise through his weary bones.

“Yeah, I am.”

**G O O D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744373) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	9. nine.

_ DEFEND _

_ → Selected! _

_ I can’t let my family get hurt. _

Yuta’s hazy eyes haven’t strayed from Taeyong. He’s still hovering over the four shapes on the ground, shaking so violently he can barely stand. Taeyong’s gaze flickers downwards-- He recognizes Ten, Kun, Sicheng, and Johnny, all with gaping holes right where their hearts should be. He curls his trembling fingers into a fist. Alarms ringing in his head distract him from the gruesome sight as he sees Yuta jerk, body becoming tensed and taut as he slowly reaches down.

_ We saw blood. _

Taeyong lunges forward without another second to waste.

He doesn’t know what kind of fucked up trance has come over Yuta, but it certainly gives Taeyong the upper hand in agility. Guilt coils in his stomach at the thought of injuring someone he loves, but he has no choice. He has to stop this now. 

He has no idea what transpired while he was asleep, but his family is injured-- or worse-- and he needs to do _ something. _Nothing cruel, he just-- he just needs to make Yuta not a threat to them.

_ Don’t fail. Don’t fail. Don’t fail. _

Taeyong’s world tilts on its axis. Tears blur his vision, blood aflame in his veins and heart turning to ice in his chest. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath. It tastes like ash.

He has to do something. 

Pebbles skitter out of his way as he swipes the stick from the ground, plunging it forward in one smooth motion.

“_Taeyong_.” Yuta gurgles through the hole in his throat, a horrifying clarity flickering into his eyes right before he crumples to the ground.

Taeyong feels like his soul has torn in two as he pitches forward with Yuta’s momentum. Taeyong lands harshly on his knees, the stick lodging itself irreversibly deeper in Yuta’s throat. He jolts as the weight of what he’s done crashes upon him, letting go of the stick as if burned.

He swears he can hear Doyoung laughing at him.

“Oh, God!” Taeyong wails, scrambling off Yuta as the boy convulses, thick blood splattering the gravel around him. His chest is drenched in the substance. It dribbles out of his mouth as he coughs weakly, struggling to form words. 

Taeyong hiccups between his sobs, fingers fluttering over Yuta’s chest as if he could somehow fix this. “No, no, no I didn’t mean to-- I didn’t mean to h-hurt you that bad I-- Oh my God Yuta_ please _\--” He babbles nonsensically, frantically pushing at Yuta’s chest as if that would stitch up the nasty wound splitting his throat open.

He loved Yuta-- _ loves _ him, always. No matter how much resistance the boy gave him, no matter how they quarreled and spat and argued, he knew that Yuta loved him. Yuta always cared too much, quick to jump to conclusions and even quicker to let his emotions overwhelm him. It was something Taeyong always wanted to work on with the boy, but even so he still loved him as he did all his brothers. He helped Yuta learn their language, helped him settle into the country, comforted him at night and cooked his favorite food when he was homesick. In return, even when they were fighting Yuta was always a strong force by his side, someone to step in when he couldn’t handle all his duties, someone who helped look after everyone else.

_ What have I done? _

Blood smears all across Taeyong’s hands, tears mixing with it as he howls into Yuta’s chest. The injured boy is deathly white, veins bulging over his skin and eyes bright red. He isn’t seizing anymore, body stilling as the life drains out of him and pools into the rocks. 

For the first time since they got off the bus, he looks like himself.

Yuta’s jaw drops a bit as if to impart a final message to Taeyong, but the words die on his lips. His teary eyes rolls back in his head as his chest gives one final heave, falling silent under the inky cloak of night.

Taeyong is left to scream and sob and shake the boy’s form, hoping to wake him up even as the shame creeping into his gut whispers that it’s _ hopeless _. He tears ruthlessly at his hair, lungs closing off as his mistakes crush him into oblivion.

_ You failed you failed you failed you failed you failed you failed you failed-- _

Choking on his cries, he crawls over to the four bodies strewn around them. The ground moves unsteadily beneath him, his limbs weak and uncoordinated.

“Please, please, _ someone._” He pleads with the gods, but of course they aren’t listening. He presses an ear to their chests one at a time, desperate to find a pulse somewhere, _ anywhere. _

He can’t hear anything past the blood roaring in his ears.

“Taeyong…?” Someone gasps from behind him. Taeyong turns slowly, blood drenched hands spasming from where he’s hunched over Johnny’s body. “What have you done?”

_ What did you do to me, Taeyong? Taeyong? Taeyong? _

“I--” Taeyong croaks, throat cracked and dry. His head spins, exhaustion swirling in his bones. He can’t begin to explain what happened.

He knows what it looks like. He’s the only one alive and uninjured, crouched over the bodies with blood slicked hands. The object sticking out of Yuta’s throat isn’t subtle either.

They’d never believe him.

It seems like most of the group has woken up by now, stumbling over with bleary eyes and mussed up hair. Taeyong flinches away from their sharp gazes, shuffling back as far as he can. The cold metal of the fence digs into his back.

He has no escape.

“It was Yuta.” Taeyong makes his case flatly, knowing that he’s already damned himself. It’s just a waiting game of who will trigger his downfall first-- his stacking sins, or his beloved brothers?

“What…” Jaemin falls to his knees next to Yuta’s cold body, thick red sludge still slowly oozing out of the wound. The rest of them would never know, but the blood staining Yuta’s hands doesn’t all belong to him.

It’s Taeyong’s secret to take to the grave, and he’s sure it won’t be too long now. He owes Yuta that much.

“I woke up and saw Yuta killing them.” Taeyong gestures halfheartedly towards the others. Deep down, he hopes that they still have enough faith in him to hear him out. Logically, he knows he’s already a dead man. “I did what I had to do to defend you all.”

“_Defend _ us?!” Renjun snarls, and Taeyong recoils as a fist connects with his face. He groans, massaging his cheekbone. He always knew Renjun had a fire brimming below his surface that they had rarely seen, but he never expected himself to be on the receiving end of it. Anger contorts the boy’s delicate features, but behind it Taeyong can easily pick out the grief. Renjun’s eyes slide briefly to Sicheng’s crumpled form. “You can’t fucking expect us to believe that.”

Donghyuck gently reigns Renjun back in, pressing a wobbly kiss to the boy’s darkening knuckles. He shepherds Renjun back towards Taeil, who looks like he’s trying to fight through his shell shock in order to assess the situation.

Taeil is reliable like that.

“Duckie.” Taeyong breathes. Donghyuck refuses to turn back for Taeyong. He can’t really blame the boy.

“You don’t believe me.” Taeyong can’t stop a hysterical laugh from bubbling up from his chest. “You think I murdered everyone, don’t you? After all I did to try to keep us safe?”

Chenle is throwing up somewhere to the right of them, unable to bear the sight of Kun’s mangled body. Jungwoo is rubbing his back with a petrified look on his face, desperate to pretend that this isn’t happening.

Mark winces as he steps forward, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. He looks lost, _ betrayed, _ devastation clear in his empty gaze as he forces the words out. “T-Taeyong...you’ve always had something against Yuta, huh?”

Ice shards slice up Taeyong’s stomach. “What?”

“This whole trip, you’ve been doing nothing but fight with Yuta at every turn. It’s like...like you disagreed on how to handle things, like you didn’t want him to interfere with how you lead us. I don’t-- I don’t want to believe it, but you look so suspicious right now...D-Did you set Yuta up, Taeyong? Did you kill him?” Tears of disbelief cut tracks down Mark’s young face. His eyebrows are knit together, eyes begging Taeyong, _ begging _ him to say no, that this was all a misunderstanding and everyone is fine and happy and getting along and _ alive. _

Taeyong wishes he could give Mark that ending.

Taeyong didn’t kill the other four. He knows this to be true, even though it doesn’t help his case since he still did...kill...someone. The word sends waves of nausea crashing over him, guilt festering in his chest. It makes sense for Yuta to be responsible for everyone’s deaths, but...

_ His eyes look glazed, skin tinged with green and bumpy veins tracing patterns across his arms. _

Taeyong can’t shake the feeling that this story doesn’t have such a clean answer.

It would be so easy to pin everything on himself. Getting them to believe Yuta’s role in this is fruitless, anyways. Sure, Yuta may have...done some horrible things, but Taeyong’s already committed the worst sin against him, already taken everything away from him without even pausing to hear him out. Why should _ Taeyong _ get the chance for redemption?

Keeping Yuta’s reputation untarnished, letting him rest in peace, seems like the least Taeyong can do at this point. Maybe if the rest of the group think that the murders began and ended with Taeyong, they can find a shred of hope, a bit of closure. They can feel in control.

The game might be over for Taeyong, but he might still be able to help his family rest.

He doesn’t protest as they bring up the evidence against him, arrow after arrow embedding itself in his heart. He doesn’t dare insist that Yuta committed the other murders, doesn’t bother to argue with the voice in his head singing _ you failed you failed you failed! _

Taeyong allows his pounding head to clang against the fence, the jolt of physical pain paling in comparison to the grief pulsing through his chest. Groggily, he thinks he can make out Taeil, Mark, and Jaemin huddled in the corner, discussing something in low tones. He can’t quite see through the dark shapes slinking through his vision.

_ No one wants you here. _ Yuta’s sharp smile glints in the moonlight as he reaches dripping talons towards Taeyong’s chest. _ No one likes a murderer. _

He hasn’t seen Jaehyun in a while.

_ No one likes a murderer. _ Ten rolls over, mangled jaw dropping open. _ Why did you kill us, Taeyong? _

Taeyong scrubs at his eyes. Ten didn’t have any injuries on his face. Right?

_ No one likes a murderer! No one likes a murderer! No one likes you, Taeyong! _

“You can’t stay here.” Jeno says thickly. Taeyong’s head rolls heavily on his neck, gaze slanting up to where Jeno is standing in front of him. He notes the considerable distance between them.

Taeyong hums.

“We can’t...we can’t afford to have you with us, I’m sorry.” The last words come out as a whisper, accompanied by a tear rolling down Jeno’s cheek. He’s flanked by Taeil, who gives Taeyong the most broken look he’s ever seen. “Please, understand what it’s like on our end. You’re...dangerous.”

Taeyong thinks Jeno looks much too young to be dealing with this-- they all are.

His eyes unfocus, staring past Jeno. Everyone avoids looking in their direction. Mark is crouched on the ground, head in his hands as Renjun tries to comfort him, ignoring the trembling of his own shoulders. Lucas and Jungwoo seem to be arguing with Taeil, but the answer is obvious. Taeyong is beyond saving.

_ Dangerous. _ Taeyong looks down at his bloodstained hands, suppressing a shiver at the way the substance has settled into the cracks of his palms, smudged on his fingertips. He supposes he is dangerous.

Jisung agrees.

They’re much too nice, Taeyong thinks as Lucas ties him to the fence with gentle hands. They think he just murdered five of their loved ones. They should be beating him up, reducing him to nothing but spilt blood on the gravel as he pays for his sins.

He’d almost rather that ending. At least some justice would be served.

Lucas dips his head, unable to make eye contact with Taeyong. As he reaches around Taeyong’s thin form to secure the shoelace to the fence, his lips brush past Taeyong’s ear. “I don’t know if what happened to me happened to you, but I’m s-sorry.” He rasps. “I couldn’t protect you the way you protected me.”

He’s never looked smaller in Taeyong’s eyes.

Taeyong’s gaze drifts from Yuta’s bulging veins and bloodshot eyes down to his own arms, smooth and unblemished. He doesn’t think this is the same, at all.

Taeyong doesn’t trust his voice, pressing his bruised lips together in a way that he hopes conveys understanding. He could never expect any of them to spare him after what he did, not even Lucas.

_ Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? _

Footsteps crunch over the gritty ground. Jungwoo blows his soft hair out of his eyes, distress evident in his angled features. “We won’t be far, okay? We can’t...they said it’s dangerous for you to be loose, but we won’t leave you. Xuxi-- Xuxi and I won’t leave you, okay? We’re going to plan, and come back when we find a way out. We’ll get you help, I--” Jungwoo bites his lip, cutting off the promise. 

He crouches as Taeyong feels the last of his energy leeching out of his muscles, rendering him limp against his restraints. Jungwoo’s delicate voice drops into a low whisper, eyes desperately searching Taeyong’s. Taeyong hopes he finds what he’s looking for. “There’s got to be something else going on here. I know you’d never hurt us.”

_ Oh, but wouldn’t you? _ Yuta singsongs, trailing freezing fingers over Taeyong’s cheek. _ Didn’t you? _

“No one likes a murderer.” He laughs vacantly as the footsteps grow farther and farther away. They hesitate as he speaks, but they don’t turn back.

_ TURN BACK? _

It’s just Taeyong and the corpses smiling back from the other side of the river. The moon paints itself a dripping red, the stars winking out of existence one by one. Taeyong shivers. He doesn’t like the way Yuta is reaching for his throat.

→ 

Taeyong feels like his head has been stuffed with cotton, the heaviness of his limbs spreading like dark tar through his mind. He doesn’t know how long he spends trapped in his own head, screams and pleas and venomous whispers pummeling him from all sides. He can feel nothing but the chill of night caressing his tear streaked face, taste nothing but the rancid flavor of blood in his mouth.

_ “Please.” _

Taeyong leans his head back and succumbs to the shadows prowling around him.

He’s pulled from oblivion an immeasurable amount of time later by the shoelaces binding his wrists to the fence falling away. He groans as he falls forward without the fence to string him up, colliding with a warm body. Too warm-- hot to the touch, actually.

“Jae...hyun?” Taeyong gasps as the boy gently massages the feeling back into Taeyong’s pale wrists. “What…”

“Baby.” Jaehyun’s mouth opens and closes for a few seconds, eyes unbelievably haunted. There are flecks of blood staining his cheek. “We have to go.”

Taeyong tamps down the heady electricity that zips through his veins as his boyfriend’s large hand settles in his own. The flush washes away as Jaehyun jerks him onto his feet, barely steadying him as he pushes forward.

Taeyong struggles to keep up with his pace, head swimming with confusion. His eyes itch and burn as he rubs at them. He pulls his hand out of Jaehyun’s grasp only to find fresh blood running rivulets down his fingertips. Breathing fast, he flips Jaehyun’s hand over. There are little shards of glass lodged in his palm. “Jae, what’s going on?” Taeyong whimpers as Jaehyun avoids his eyes. “Please, please talk to me!”

“Do you trust me?” Jaehyun croaks, grief dancing in his eyes. His sunken skin stretches over sharp bones, the capillaries in his eyes darkening with every passing moment. Deep purple bruises drag the skin under his eyes down to his cheekbones, a thin sheen of sweat catching the light of the moon.

_ Jaehyun holds out his hand. “Do you trust me?” _

“With my life.” Taeyong breathes, echoes of simpler times ringing in his ears. 

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut as Jaehyun tugs him along. Cool air brushes over his flushed skin. Jaehyun picks up the pace, dirt crumbling beneath their pounding shoes as they hurry across the park.

He doesn’t ask where they’re going. He doesn’t let his mind wander to the others. He doesn’t question the bruises flowering on Jaehyun’s knuckles, nor the ashy wound tearing open his thigh. He doesn’t prod about the wild look in his eyes or the shallow breaths he’s gulping in. He doesn’t wipe away the thin stream of blood flowing from Jaehyun’s nose, doesn’t mention the sickly green hue of the veins protruding from his skin.

Taeyong surrenders.

When he opens his eyes, they’re in the middle of the parking lot. Jaehyun is on his knees, staring hopelessly into the ground as if the gritty sand can give him any solace. His shoulders are trembling as cries wrack his body.

Taeyong doesn’t know how they got out. He doesn’t dare turn around to challenge whatever lays behind them.

_ You hurt us you hurt us you hurt us! _Ten chants, warm breath hovering on the shell of Taeyong’s ear. It feels as real as the ground underneath his feet.

Taeyong doesn’t trust reality anymore.

“J-Jae, honey.” Taeyong’s legs give out, depositing him next to the boy. He latches onto Jaehyun’s grubby wrists. He trembles as he lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Jaehyun’s bony hand. He clings to it as if the touch is the only thing tying him to this plane of existence.

_ It just might be, _ Doyoung says pitifully. _ Who are you, Taeyong? _

Jaehyun’s watery eyes bore into him, little gasps escaping from his bloodied lips. His fingers slide down to dig desperately into Taeyong’s forearms. He holds him like a man starved, like someone could take Taeyong away at any moment.

Lying there in the grimy parking lot, tucked away in each others arms, it’s just Jaehyun and Taeyong against the world.

_ Murderer? Murderer? Murderer? _

“Phone.” Jaehyun’s voice is strained and hoarse, like he’d been screaming. A shiver of fear works it’s way through Taeyong’s body. “N-Need your phone need. To call-- call for help.”

Taeyong’s stomach twists at the stilted words. Something is wrong here. “Jae, what..where a-are the others? What happened to you, and your phone?”

Jaehyun drops Taeyong’s arms like he’s been stung. He dissolves into near hysterics again, tortured cries escaping his lips. The fit only lasts for a few seconds, leaving Jaehyun drained and weak. He licks his chapped lips, swollen eyes unfocusing. 

“Gone.” He whispers, hollow as the hole in Yuta’s throat.

_ Who is Jaehyun, Taeyong? _Johnny laughs and laughs and laughs as something chillingly unfamiliar creeps into Jaehyun’s far away expression.

Taeyong doesn’t dare ask what question Jaehyun just answered.

_ MURDERER MURDERER MURDERER _

Taeyong allows the darkness to spirit him off again, drifting away to the blissful sound of a dial up tone.

_________________________

They never speak of that day.

Taeyong lost everything. He lost his family, his sanity, his trust in himself and his decisions. He is terrified of his own hands, feels estranged from them as he flexes his fingers. He watches the reflection in the mirror. He can’t feel it.

He doesn’t recognize the mangled boy looking back.

Grief and guilt corrode the soul quicker than anything, settling deep in the lines of his heart and burning layers of flesh off his organs.

Jaehyun sleeps in a different bed now. It makes no difference. Nothing can stop Taeyong from waking up to unholy screams and desperate cries for help as Jaehyun writhes in pain in the other room.

Night terrors. Taeyong doesn’t ask. He can’t feel it.

They glide aimlessly through the apartment like their minds are millions of miles away, pathetic wisps taking the place of the humans that once stood there. Taeyong, at least, tries to make an effort. He turns on the television for entertainment, hoping some cheery cartoons will brighten up the apartment.

The phone doesn’t ring. Jaehyun cut the power lines.

He makes coffee in the morning, even though Jaehyun just stirs it for hours. The methodic clink of the spoon against the bottom of the cup makes the anxiety coil tighter in Taeyong’s stomach. He’d never tell Jaehyun that, not when the boy won’t respond to his own name.

Jaehyun never got a new cellphone. He smashed Taeyong’s, in fact. Neither of them got replacements, but that’s okay. There’s no need for them. They don’t leave, anyways.

The news comes on. Jaehyun switches it off, the slight tremor in his fingers the only clue at how he’s feeling. They don’t pay attention to the news anymore. They don’t need to.

_ Ignorance is bliss_, Yuta says.

Jaehyun’s spoon stops abruptly, hot coffee sloshing over the side of the cup. Some splatters onto Taeyong, but he doesn’t flinch. He can’t feel it.

_________________________

Taeyong slips into Jaehyun’s room some nights, seeking the comfort that being one once provided. He pays no mind to the shadows taunting him from where they’re perched above the bed. He’s used to their venomous whispers, accustomed to the freezing fingers wrapping around his neck. He allows the cacophony of screams to wash over him. It’s what he deserves.

Taeyong lost everything.

“At least I didn’t lose you.” Taeyong whispers as he presses up against his boyfriend’s back. 

_ Didn’t you? Didn’t you? Didn’t you? _ Kun chants lowly.

Jaehyun doesn’t respond, staring resolutely at the wall. Taeyong knows he’s not asleep. Neither of them sleep, these days. Though, they wouldn’t really know if they did-- nightmares are nightmares, even if you’re awake.

“I love you.” Taeyong buries his face against Jaehyun’s shoulder blades. He ignores the way Jaehyun’s body tenses slightly at the words. He doesn’t say anything, but Taeyong doesn’t expect him to.

He can’t remember the last time Jaehyun spoke to him-- except he can. 

_ Gone. _

Taeyong throws his arm over Jaehyun’s stiff side, snuggling close. He quiets his breathing, fingers falling over Jaehyun’s chest. He listens for a heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

He can’t feel it.

**N E U T R A L E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193#workskin) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744238) _

_[END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396)_  
  
  



	10. ten.

_ ??? _

→ _ Fool. _

“_What the fuck, Taeyong?!” _

Taeyong is straddling Jaehyun, hands still closed around the boy’s throat. His face is buried in Jaehyun’s chest, sobbing as he tries to listen for his boyfriend’s heartbeat.

Silence.

_ What have I done? _

He doesn’t move. He can’t move. He can’t speak, can’t open his eyes, not even when Sicheng wrestles him off Jaehyun and throws him to the floor.

_ What have you done? _Jaehyun weeps.

A harsh slap to Taeyong’s cheek brings him back to reality-- somewhat. He startles, gasping for breath as if he was the one strangled.

At least, it feels like he was.

He pries open his eyes in time to see Yuta recoiling, barely able to meet his eyes in horror. Taeyong looks past him; Doyoung has the others huddled as far away from Taeyong as he can get.

“We heard screaming.” Yuta rasps, tears trickling down his cheeks. “How the _ fuck _ are you gonna explain this one, huh?” He shoves at Taeyong, fear flickering in his eyes. “_Huh?!” _

Taeyong opens his mouth, but closes it wordlessly, unsure of what to say. This looks bad. It _ is _bad, but he was just trying to protect them. “J-Jaehyun was the killer.” He wheezes out, wide eyes pleading with Yuta. “I had to do what I had to do to keep you all safe!”

Yuta’s eyes narrow, stepping closer to him. “Listen,” He hisses lowly, “We just witnessed you strangle Jaehyun to death. How in the fucking world are we supposed to believe that _he _was the dangerous one?”

Taeyong crawls back towards Jaehyun’s body, hiccuping. The kids flinch away as he gets closer, and he wants to die. Right there, he just wants to die.

“He had a knife-- I saw it. I saw it in the mirror, he had a knife and he was g-gonna--” Taeyong cuts himself off with a shaky gasp as his hands fly around Jaehyun’s corpse. There is no knife. Where is the knife? He rolls Jaehyun onto his back, searching the floor. Where is it? Where is it? He saw it in the mirror, he knows he did. He saw the way Jaehyun’s expert fingers twirled the weapon in his hands, felt the cool metal prickle along his spine.

Mark’s face hardens.

“I swear I saw it, I swear!” Taeyong wails, desperate. He knows what he saw. He knows Jaehyun was going to kill him if he didn’t make the first move.

“How can we trust you?!” Jisung sobs, cowering into the corner. “We gave you a second chance. We tried! And look what you’ve _ done!” _ He dissolves into wretched sobs, falling into Renjun’s arms. Jeno looks at Taeyong like he’s a feral animal, like he’s untamed, wild, unpredictable.

Maybe he’s right.

_ He’s right, he’s right! _ Jaehyun singsongs, _ You’re a murderer, Taeyong! _

Taeyong gives up his search in favor of curling himself into a small ball, trying to contain himself as best as he can. The kids are still in the room. They don’t need to see him break down. They don’t need to fear him more than they already do, don’t need to be traumatized more than they already are. He gulps in several deep breaths, staring up at Doyoung and Yuta, who seem to have taken charge. Sicheng, Donghyuck, and Mark are busy trying to get the others under control.

“You killed Jaehyun.” Mark says coldly, turning around from where he’s trying to calm Renjun down. “We saw you kill him, it only makes sense that the-- _ others_, were because you.”

Taeyong chokes on his sobs because Mark doesn’t sound angry, or even accusatory. He doesn’t sound like he wants to beat Taeyong up for revenge, doesn’t sound like he’s close to snapping with rage in the slightest. He just sounds disappointed. He sounds hurt, betrayed by someone he looked up to, someone he idolized.

“But it wasn’t me! It _ wasn’t! _ What can I do to make you all believe me?” Taeyong pleads with them, writhing with frustration. His struggling slows, breathing evening out and cries stuttering to a stop as it dawns on him, silence falling over the room.

He stares into Doyoung’s pained eyes. There’s no forgiveness in there, any spark of hope snuffed out. “There’s...there’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, is there?” Taeyong says but it isn’t a question. Heart sinking, he knows it to be true even before Yuta slowly nods his head.

He doesn’t protest as they tie him to the leg of one of the bathroom stalls, hands bound behind his back. They only have shoelaces to tie him up with, but Taeyong has no intention of breaking out, anyways. 

“Remind you of something?” He smiles lazily at the ceiling, starting to chuckle to himself. Unnerved, Yuta ties the next shoelace a little tighter.

“I don’t want to be doing this, Taeyong.” Yuta mutters but Taeyong can’t hear him. “I looked up to you. I loved you so much. I-I still love you. Why…” He pauses to rest his forehead on Taeyong’s shoulder, shaking with tears. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

Taeyong is laughing now, a full belly laugh. He can’t believe this. He’s truly lost everything-- his family, his mind, and probably his life. He thinks Jaehyun is laughing with him, but that might just be screaming. It all sounds the same to Taeyong, muffled and muted to his ears.

Vision hazy, Taeyong recognizes Yuta step back from his handiwork, whispering something to Sicheng. Doyoung herds the others out, unable to look at Taeyong one last time.

Before he leaves, Donghyuck slides him a packet of crackers from his backpack, muffling a sob into the palm of his hand. Taeyong’s heart squeezes as he distinctly remembers packing that for the boy. He was always so particular with his snacks.

“We’re going to come back for you.” Sicheng finally speaks, voice thick with unshed tears. He’s strong. Stronger than Taeyong could ever be. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Taeyong, but we can’t...we can’t just have you out there, on the loose. We’re going to go get help, and we’re going to come back. I--” Sicheng bites his lip, cutting himself off before he can say the word _ promise. _

_ Smart boy, _says Jungwoo.

“Just like Lucas.” Taeyong says softly, head lolling back against the stall as Yuta and Sicheng head for the door. They both freeze, but make no move to acknowledge him. 

_ Lucas doesn’t protest when they bind his wrists. He doesn’t shout when they tie up his ankles, or sob when they secure his torso to a nearby lamppost. It’s only when Jaehyun and Taeyong start to move away that he starts to scream, fear lighting in his wild eyes. _

The door clicks shut, and Taeyong is alone.

_ You’ll never be alone. _Jaemin nags him. Taeyong lets his head slam against the wall a few times, humming along to the rhythm. 

“I wish I had just died.” Taeyong says to the open air. He swears he can see a knife shimmering from Jaehyun’s pocket.

_ Oh, don’t worry. _ Jaehyun smiles up at him from where he’s laying on the cold tile floor. _ You will. _

Taeyong waits. He waits and waits and waits for the lights to invade the small room, for the shoelaces to be replaced by handcuffs, to hear the sentence that will condemn him to life in prison.

He waits, with nothing to do and no one to speak to except the demons in his head, but it never comes.

Taeyong tilts his chin up to the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut. They feel so heavy. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they left him.

He waits, but he is never found.

_ Welcome, Taeyong. _Jaehyun grins with sharp teeth. 

_ Ready to join us? _

  
  
  


**B A D E N D **

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193#workskin) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744808#workskin) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	11. eleven.

_ SAVE CHENLE _

_ → Selected! _

_ I’ll keep you safe, Lele, I promise. _

Taeyong sobs, the decision in his mind shooting through his limbs as he throws himself towards the lavender haired boy. He desperately tries to remember where he last saw him, pushing furiously against the choppy waters.

“Chenle! Where are you?!” He screeches as a wave crests over his head, forcing him underwater for a few seconds. He gulps in a large mouthful of bitter lake water, spluttering and coughing as he comes up. “_Chenle!” _

A few bubbles surface several feet from Taeyong. It could be anything, but Taeyong lunges towards it anyways.

_ Please, please, please. _

He flails his arms and legs in all directions, desperately hoping to find something-- _ someone_. Finally, his foot brushes against a limb.

A hand.

Taeyong braces himself, heart leaping in his chest, and dives underneath the waves. He opens his bleary eyes, ignoring the stinging pain as the disgusting water sears his eyes. He can just barely make out a figure drifting down towards the seemingly bottomless lake, disappearing into the inky blackness. His hair fans out softly in the water. A thin stream of moonlight illuminates his lips, as purple as his hair.

Taeyong kicks his legs as hard as he can, swimming fiercely towards the boy. The wind whips the water into strong currents, twists and rolling Taeyong and pushing him away, but he won’t stop. He can’t.

His fingers close around a bony wrist.

There are no bubbles spurting from Chenle’s mouth. His chest is still, arms limp and dragging.

_ I promise, Lele. _

With strength Taeyong didn’t know he had, his lungs burning with lack of oxygen and vision spotty, Taeyong rips them upwards. As soon as they break the surface, he gasps and sputters, greedily sucking in breaths. He can feel the faintness in his muscles, the energy sapping out of him as he struggles to even tread water. With a grunt, he heaves Chenle onto his back and starts to push back to shore.

_ Quickly, quickly. I need to save Chenle. _

Amidst his paddling, Taeyong presses his ear to Chenle’s wrist. He can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything. Shapes blur in the distance. Relief washes over Taeyong as they grow closer and closer. Doyoung and Sicheng are splashing into the water, hands outstretched to help them.

Taeyong lets out a wail as he launches Chenle into their arms, hauling himself onto the shore for a brief moment. His icy hair clings to his forehead, tears starting to crystallize on his eyelashes.

_ Quickly, quickly. I need to save Jaehyun. _

“Jae…” Taeyong groans, rolling back over and crawling towards the water again. “Jae!”

Jisung and the others are crouched by Chenle’s side as Kun frantically performs CPR on him. Chenle’s eyes crack open a tiny bit.

Jungwoo’s head snaps up, tracking Taeyong closely. Gasping, he drops Chenle’s hand, bolting up. “Taeyong, stop! What the hell are you doing?!”

Taeyong has managed to scramble to his feet, plunging himself back into the depths. Everything seems to be moving slowly. He can feel the strain on his malnourished body as he desperately strokes towards where he thinks Jaehyun is. He doesn’t know.

He chokes as salty water fills his mouth. He can’t tell up from down, black from white, Earth from Mars.

_ I can’t let my anchor sink. _

“_Taeyong! _”’

He tries to let out a breath, but his lungs are exhausted and empty. His arms trail weakly in front of him, a crushing headache splitting his skull straight open. Liquid fire shoots through his drained body as he starts to let go.

_ Jaehyun. _

“Taeyong!” Jungwoo grabs him by the waist, dragging him back to shore. Taeyong struggles with what little fight is left in his body, throwing up water as he pleads with Jungwoo.

“But Jaehyun!” He wails, fists beating weakly at Jungwoo’s chest. “_We have to find Jaehyun! _”

Jungwoo does nothing but grimace, setting his sights firmly on the shore. Taeyong can see the tears welling up in his eyes. Around them, the water calms slightly, the wind having ceased. Taeyong’s vision doubles, and then triples. 

There is not a single splash to be seen.

Taeyong’s world slows to a crawl. He sees Jungwoo’s blurry lips moving, but he doesn’t hear anything. He sees Doyoung’s hands pumping down on his chest, feels the nasty sting of water coming up his throat, but it all seems to be in slow motion, frame by frame. Panic seizes him. He can’t register anything but _ Jaehyun Jaehyun Jaehyun did anyone save Jaehyun please please please-- _

“Calm down, Taeyong! You’re hyperventilating!”

Taeyong’s heart pounds through his chest, his body weak and limbs light and airy. With a sigh, he succumbs to the darkness.

  


_________________________

It’s morning when he wakes up.

Alone.

Taeyong blinks his eyes open hesitantly. His muscles ache. Why are his lungs so sore…? He trails a hand up over his sternum, laying his palm flat against his chest. He licks his lips. They’re cracked and dry.

Kun’s face leans into his line of sight. “Oh. You’re awake.” There’s a sadness coloring Kun’s voice. Taeyong sits up nervously, his pulse quickening.

“What happened?” He asks groggily, rubbing at his eyes. Kun winces, but stays silent. He just helps Taeyong up by the hand and walks him to the rest of the group.

“Where’s Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks immediately, not spotting him amongst the other members. 

_ Where’s my anchor? _

No one speaks. No one looks at him. Taeyong slowly takes in the sensation of freezing wet clothes sticking to his body, the stinging of lungs deprived of air. He spies Chenle curled up on the other side of the clearing, his head buried in his knees and shoulders shaking violently. Jisung is sitting next to him, not touching him. He’s sobbing as well. Tear tracks line Doyoung’s cheeks as he turns away from Taeyong.

“Jaehyun is gone.” says Jaemin softly, squeezing Donghyuck’s hand. “H-He’s gone…”

The words slam into Taeyong like a freight train. “O-Oh.” He says, his legs depositing him onto the ground with a thud. “Oh.”

Sicheng’s soft hands rub pitying lengths along Taeyong’s spine, gently quieting his cries of pain. Tears are pouring out of his eyes and run down his cheeks, but truly Taeyong does not feel anything. He feels hollow, numb, utterly lost. He cannot fathom the thought of not waking up next to Jaehyun in the morning, not getting to spend the rest of their lives together like he always imagined, not ever seeing Jaehyun laugh or smile again.

It’s not possible.

Taeyong relaxes into Sicheng’s hold, drifting far, far away. His anchor is gone. There is no one to ground him anymore, and so he leaves. His body pushes forward with the rest of them. His feet beat against the ground. His legs pump over tree roots. His back bends underneath low hanging branches, but his mind is not there. His heart is not there. 

He doesn’t know how long they travel for after that. He retains enough sanity to make sure that everyone is with them-- everyone that is alive, that is. They have some close calls with Renjun getting separated from the group and Jeno getting a worryingly large insect bite that looks like it’s starting to get infected, but ultimately no more tragedy befalls them.

_ Funny how that works, _ Taeyong thinks bitterly. Not that he would ever want another of his boys to die, but of _ course _ all things had to end with Jaehyun, huh?

“We’re safe.” Taeyong says emotionlessly to no one as they break out onto a road. “We’re safe.” He says to Jaehyun as his knees hit the gravel.

_ You’re safe. _ Jaehyun responds. Taeyong shivers as icy water drips onto his face. _ You killed me. _

Taeyong doesn’t speak to anyone; not his members, not the paramedics, not the doctors, no one. No one except the soaking wet figure that constantly looms in the corner of his vision, darting in and out whenever Taeyong tries to look directly at him.

Wherever he goes, Jaehyun’s leering grin haunts him.

  


_________________________

  
  


“That’s bullshit.”

Yuta sets the phone back with a click. Taeyong doesn’t speak, his breath ghosting over his hands. Sicheng swallows hard, tapping at his thigh. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he pages at his book. He’s not really reading it; Taeyong can tell.

Yuta clears his throat. “They’ve recovered almost everything.” _ Everyone_, Taeyong’s mind autocorrects.

Taeyong watches the window pane fog up, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Yuta’s nails scrape against the back of his hand.

“They couldn’t find Jaehyun.”

  


_________________________

  
  


Taeyong hears them, late at night. Doyoung is arguing heatedly with Kun. Well, he’s more arguing with himself. Kun is just there to spectate.

“What do you mean they couldn’t _ find him?! _ He was right at the bottom of that damn lake, he couldn’t have gone anywhere. What the fuck!” Doyoung slams his glass down, breathing hard. He starts to pace around the dimly lit kitchen, seething to himself. His nails bite angry red marks into his palms.

Kun runs a hand down his ragged face. He looks like he hasn’t slept for months. He probably hasn’t. None of them have.

“I don’t know, Doyoung. I really don’t know.”

  


_________________________

It’s the middle of the night when Taeyong’s door creaks open. He rolls over, opening his bleary eyes. The glowing red numbers of the clock burn into his corneas. It’s nearly three in the morning, but he wasn’t sleeping. He never is.

The thin beam of light shining from the hallway grows wider. Jaehyun is standing in the doorway, sopping wet and dripping scummy lake water all over the carpet. Taeyong bolts up in terror, throwing his blanket off. “J--”

“Yongie?” Comes a fragile voice. 

Taeyong shakes his head violently, closing his eyes to clear his vision. It’s not Jaehyun-- of course it’s not. That’s impossible.

Isn’t it?

“Can I sleep here?” The figure edges closer. Taeyong lets out a careful breath. Donghyuck. 

It’s not uncommon for one of the dreamies (and sometimes the older members) to come crawling into Taeyong’s bed at night. They all crave closure, comfort, reassurance. If they aren’t sleeping with each other, they’ll gravitate towards Taeyong.

_ I don’t know why they would, _ Taeyong thinks to himself bitterly as he pulls Donghyuck into his arms, _ I couldn’t protect anyone. _

Donghyuck’s hair tickles Taeyong’s chin, his warm arms thrown around Taeyong’s waist, but the bed still feels cold and empty. Taeyong still feels like he’s drifting out to sea.

No one speaks for a long time. Then Donghyuck’s faint voice filters into the air. “Do you really think it was all some random serial killer?”

Taeyong swallows hard. “I don’t know, honey.”

Donghyuck continues, his voice getting groggy with sleepiness. “Jus’ felt like there had to be more to it, you know? I don’t think we really know what happened. I hate that. I hate it...Who hurt us, Yongie?”

Taeyong’s arms tighten around the boy as he drifts off to sleep. “Sleep well, Duckie.” He says softly.

For a long time after that, there is nothing but the rise and fall of Donghyuck’s chest. Taeyong glances down to make sure his own chest is still moving. He can’t tell. He can’t seem to register the flow of air through his lungs, the pulse of blood through his veins.

_ Is this living? _He wonders as he ruffles a hand through Donghyuck’s hair.

_ No. _whispers Jaehyun, teasing him from the sidelines as he slinks along the shadowed walls.

_________________________

“Can we play a game, Sungie?” Chenle asks, kicking his legs in the air a bit. He’s laying upside down and half off his bed, his dark hair brushing the floor. They all dyed their hair jet black for the funerals.

Jisung shifts uncomfortably. “What do you want to play?”

Chenle allows himself to slither off the bed, resting in a puddle on the ground. He’s not smiling. He rarely does that anymore. “Dunno.”

Jisung sits with his knees drawn up into his chest, heart squeezing in pain. He doesn’t want to be sad. He doesn’t want to see Chenle sad. He doesn’t want to see _ any _of them sad.

Jisung, being Chenle’s roommate, is the only one to see the horrific night terrors he goes through. He’s the only one to see the agony flash over Chenle’s features, the only one to hear the whimpering and garbled cries and the babbling of _ I’m sorry I’m so sorry please it should’ve been me_.

Chenle pulls open the bottom drawer of his nightstand and gently lifts a small wooden board out of it, unfolding it quickly. Jisung turns pale. “I don’t want to play this, Lele. Last time...”

Sometimes at night it sounds like Chenle is drowning.

Chenle’s face falls. “I know, I just thought…” He sniffles, hiding his face in his sleeve. “I thought we could try to talk to Jaehyunnie. I-- I need to apologize.”

Jisung bites his lip, casting a glance around the room. “Fine, but not here. I don’t want to do it in our room.”

“Taeyongie’s room, then?” Chenle proposes, but it’s not really a question. He’s already out the door. Jisung trudges after him, pushing open Taeyong’s door. The man in question is sprawled on top of his bed, taking a nap with headphones in. Chenle shoots him a quick thumbs up, turning his back to Taeyong and setting up the game.

“I’m sure he won’t mind, as long as we’re quiet.” Jisung doesn’t doubt it. At this point, they would all do anything to make Chenle smile again.

Chenle unclips his keychain from where it always hangs from his belt, placing it flat onto the board. He lightly touches it with two fingers, looking up at Jisung imploringly.

Jisung’s stomach twists with unease. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Lele.”

Chenle’s eyes are shining with unshed tears as he rasps to Jisung. “You don’t understand. I need to do this. I need to apologize!”

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, placing his own two fingers on the planchette. “Okay, fine. Let’s play.”

  
  
  


_________________________

  
  


“Taeyong, are you feeling alright? You look a little...pale.”

  
  
  
  


**N E U T R A L E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 18](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744706) _

  
  
  
_[ END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396)_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. twelve.

_ STOP JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

“Jaehyun! What the _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?!” Taeyong screams, lunging after the two. Ten is laid flat on the ground, unmoving. His muscles twitch like he’s trying to move, but he’s paralyzed.

Taeyong grabs a hold of the arm wielding the weapon, and pulls on it as hard as he can. Jaehyun holds fast, refusing to move or speak. “Jae!” He sobs. “_Fucking let go!” _

He can’t. He can’t watch Jaehyun hurt-- god, maybe even _ kill _ \-- someone. And one of their _ brothers _, no less.

“_Please!” _

With one final tug, Taeyong succeeds in whacking the weapon out of Jaehyun’s hand. Jaehyun turns his face to Taeyong in fury, one hand closed over a struggling Ten’s throat. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” He says darkly, the anger in his voice not lining up with the tears streaking down his cheeks, body shuddering. He looks like he’s battling within himself.

“No!” Taeyong wheezes out, still trying to knock Jaehyun off the smaller boy, “You don’t-- know-- what y-you’re-- doing!” He digs one shoulder into Jaehyun’s side, hitting a sensitive spot that allows him to shove Jaehyun off. They both land on the ground, heaving. Taeyong struggles onto his knees, locking Jaehyun’s elbows behind him so he can’t lash out any more.

“Ten!” He calls to the figure still on the ground. “Are you okay?!”

“You’ve made a huge mistake.” Jaehyun warns him, eyes blown wide and trembling in Taeyong’s grip. “You don’t _ understand_!”

“I understand just fine, I understand that you were about to _ kill _ one of our brothers! Our fucking family! What the _ fucking hell has gotten into you?” _ Taeyong can barely bite his rage back.

Jaehyun doesn’t respond, only thrashing harder as Ten slowly picks himself up off the ground, limbs dragging. He stumbles towards them, stopping about inches away from Taeyong’s feet. His head is bowed, scruffy hair blowing slightly in the wind. His hands shake, but they’re the only part of his body that is moving. His chest doesn’t even move with a breath.

“T-Ten?”

Ten jolts like he’s been electrocuted, muscles tensing violently as he launches himself at Taeyong. Ten scratches him across the face, catching him right in the eye. 

It’s a red hot pain of a caliber Taeyong has never felt before-- not when he broke his arm, not when he got a concussion, never. Taeyong wails and presses a palm to his stinging eye, stumbling backwards. He can feel blood dripping from a gash on his forehead. What the fuck?

Ten is convulsing, limbs flying everywhere and striking Taeyong; once to his stomach, once to his face, once to his jaw. Taeyong can’t bring himself to fight back, trying to dodge Ten’s blows.

“Ten! _ What are you d--” _

Ten’s entire body goes slack, hands coming around Taeyong’s throat and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He scrabbles at Ten’s hands, trying desperately to get a gasp of air, but his ears start to ring, vision going foggy, lungs burning. Before he knows it, all he sees is nothingness.

**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE _

_ [→ Chapter 19](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744727#workskin) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	13. thirteen.

_ TURN BACK _

_ → Selected! _

“I dunno, guys.” Taeyong reiterates, glancing back nervously. “I think we should go find him.” At Yuta’s dirty look, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, _ I’ll _ go look for him. Alone.” 

“You’re suffocating.” Yuta bites, turning to brood in the corner or some other dumb, immature emo teenager shit. Whatever.

_ And you’re a coward_, Taeyong mutters underneath his breath. If the glare Yuta shoots his way is any indication, it probably wasn’t as quiet as he meant for it to be.

“We’re going to go look at the rides over there.” Chenle juts his thumb over to the rides near the bathrooms, his cute keychain swinging from the loop of his jeans. There’s a promising 3D minions simulation ride that Chenle probably wants to check out. Taeyong nods his approval, looking sharply over to Jaehyun, who shoots him a quick thumbs up. Jaehyun will watch them. He can trust him. Taeyong smiles warmly to himself. 

He always can.

Taeyong marches back towards the entrance of the park where the bathrooms are, huffing. There’s a startling lack of attendees or employees on his way. In fact, he doesn’t see a single soul. Odd, but not alarming. It’s getting late, anyways.

The bathroom is a fairly small, pretty clean looking stand alone building. Usually the area is bustling because it’s one of the only bathrooms in the park and the closest to the exit, but tonight it’s devoid of any life. Taeyong tentatively presses on one of the buttons by the water fountains, just out of curiosity. It doesn’t work. How strange-- the water must not even be running.

Taeyong swings open the door to the men’s bathroom, still stewing in his thoughts about earlier. Or, well, the whole night so far. He does love Yuta, of course he does. 

It’s quiet.

Just for some reason Yuta’s been so...volatile lately. 

Unpredictable. 

Taeyong gently raps on the first stall door. Nothing.

Angry. 

He pushes on the second door. It creaks open willingly. There’s no one there.

Yuta isn’t the only one giving him attitude these days, anyways. Donghyuck does it a lot, and even Doyoung and Renjun can be pretty hot blooded and moody a lot of the time. It’s not a big deal.

He moves to the third one, head quirking in confusion. Why is it so quiet in here? “Lucas?” He calls.

Taeyong sighs to himself, his mind whirling. Oh, Yuta. The poor boy is probably just going through some difficult mental times. 

There’s no one in the fourth stall. Or the fifth. Or the sixth.

They’ve all been there. They’ve all gone through rough times, especially on the mental forefront. It’s part of growing up. It’ll be okay. They’ll talk things out right after they find...Lucas…

Taeyong crouches down and cranes his neck sideways, peeking at the floors of the stalls. No shoes, nothing. There’s no sound but the slow dripping of the sink. “Lucas…?”

Someone shrieks from outside the small building, reverberating against the cool tiles of the bathroom walls. Taeyong’s heart drops into his stomach, anxiety flooding his veins. 

“_Jisung!” _

Taeyong goes flying out the door. It slams heavily as his footsteps pound into the dirt, taking him closer and closer to where he heard his baby screaming.

He rounds the corner, finally coming up on Jisung’s willowy figure, which has been struck to the ground. They’re situated behind one of the newer rides in the park, in a rather well concealed area. They must have been poking around behind the sets. Chenle is standing beside him, shoulders shaking violently as a sob rips its way out of his mouth.

“What’s wrong? What happened?!” Taeyong rushes out as he fully catches up to them. His concern was mainly for the two boys, but the words fizzle out of his mouth as soon as his eyes land on the sight in front of them.

Lucas is hunched over on his knees, staring unblinkingly in front of them. There lies a lady, middle aged, with a gaping stomach wound oozing blood onto the ground. No one is in sight. Her chest isn’t moving. Lucas slowly, ever so slowly, turns to look at them. His eyes are dull, not a trace of _ life _ to be seen. The pocket knife pointed towards his chest slips gently out of his blood slicked hands.

“Lucas…” Taeyong breathes in shock. Lucas’s eyes clear suddenly, sparking with recognition. He gasps as his shoulders jolt, throwing him onto his backside. His eyes dart from Taeyong, to the...corpse, to Jisung and Chenle, and back again. Oddly enough, confusion rings in his expression, drawing his bushy eyebrows together.

Taeyong can barely see through the tears blurring his vision. The woman isn’t breathing. She’s dead. Lucas killed someone. Lucas _ killed _someone. What the fuck are they supposed to do? Taeyong freezes with his fingers grazing his phone.

“H-How could you, Lucas?!” Jisung scrambles back, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth. “How _ could _ you?”

Lucas blanches. “W-What?” His eyes take in the scene, widening at the sight of the knife. “No, you don’t understand! I didn’t do it!” He tears at fistfuls of his hair in his stress and panic. Taeyong watches the droplets of blood glimmer in the fading daylight.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it! I didn’t do _ anything!” _

Lucas’s howling quickly attracts the rest of the boys. They congregate with different horrified gasps and cries. 

“What-- what the _ fuck!” _ Mark shrieks, eyes blown wide and quickly filling with tears. Johnny pulls the boy behind himself, shoving himself between the members and Lucas.

Sicheng, god bless him, gathers up the youngest of the bunch and herds them far, far away. Doyoung tries to do the same with some of the rest of them, but they won’t budge. Especially not Jungwoo, who sprints to his boyfriend’s side in tears, but can’t bear to touch him as his eyes rove over the nausea inducing scene.

“Please, baby!” Lucas hiccups, crawling towards Jungwoo. His face is flushed red with exertion, his breaths shallow and panicked. He tries to reach for Jungwoo’s hand, but the other boy flinches away in fear. Lucas crumbles at the reflex. Jungwoo is _ scared _ of him. “Please-- I would never. I didn’t do it!”

“There’s blood on your hands, Lucas.” Yuta hisses. The words are cold, but Taeyong can tell he isn’t processing it at all, his mouth and mind and heart swiftly going on lockdown.

“I didn’t do it, please! _ Please_, believe me!” He’s hyperventilating now, desperately searching the group for anyone that will listen to him. His eyes land on Taeyong, who’s been rooted to his spot since he arrived. 

Lucas’s body goes rigid, and then he snaps, beginning to beat his fists into his head and wailing. “Please, believe me! I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t! I didn’t! _ I didn’t!” _

_ TRUST LUCAS? _

_ [→ Chapter 22](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744778) _

_TRUST THE GROUP?_

_ [→ Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744274) _


	14. fourteen.

_ SAVE JUNGWOO _

_ → Selected! _

_ Taeyong chews at his lip uneasily, not fond of making promises he isn’t sure he can keep. Before he thinks better of it, he links his pinky with Jungwoo’s, squeezing it comfortingly. “Promise.” _

“I don’t break my promises.”

Taeyong releases a bloodcurdling scream, picking up the nearest object (which happens to be a rather pathetic looking rock) and hurling it back towards the arcade doors. It clatters noisily against the tile floors. “Wake up! I need backup!”

Jungwoo can’t possibly hold on for that much longer. Taeyong has no idea when this all started, and the machine looks like it’s only getting faster. He sprints up to the contraption, heaving. Okay. Okay. He doesn’t know how to stop it, but that doesn’t matter as long as he gets Jungwoo out of there unharmed.

_ I made a promise. _

Taeyong narrows his eyes, taking stock of the situation. Jungwoo is stuck on the furthest edge of one of the branches, far from the main arm. His chest is on the seat, legs dangling in the open void. His fingers scramble for purchase along the slippery rubber cushions. From this angle, Taeyong can’t tell if he’s injured or not.

He prays for the latter, but praying doesn’t seem to be doing them any good.

Taeyong hops the gate barring people in the line from entering the ride, ducking as various arms of the machine rain down upon him. He tries to figure out a method to the movement of the machine, but the swoops and dives seem as unorganized as they come. He supposes the unpredictability must add to the thrill of it.

Taeyong breathes steadily, inching along to a place he thinks the arm Jungwoo is on should dip past. His nervous eyes dart towards the small shape being flung around on the outside of the contraption. This is taking up too much time.

Taeyong switches tactics, sprinting towards the center arm. He grasps a hunk of metal sticking out from the side, scaling the thing to the best of his ability. It’s shaking and spasming, trying to throw him off like it has a mind of its goddamn own, but Taeyong is on a mission and he will _ not _let another one of his babies die like this.

He can’t.

He prays that someone had woken up when he yelled, and that there’s backup coming soon. He doesn’t know if he can make it off without help. At least, not with both of them alive.

With an unsteady leap, Taeyong grabs onto the one of the adjacent arms, worming his way up the metal skeleton until he can swing himself onto the base of the arm Jungwoo is trapped on.

“Jungwoo!” He screams towards the lump. His voice is ripped away by the wind whipping around his body, but he hopes a little bit got through to him. “I’m coming, Jungwoo!”

_ Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me. _

He lets a leg dangle down, trying to find a spot on the branch below, but scrabbles back as the arm he’s on jerks the other way. Taeyong ends up clinging to the branch like a koala, holding on for dear life as the arm first rotates until his back is facing the ground, gravity trying to peel him off the underbelly of the damned claw, and then jolts upwards, trying to dislodge him.

He crawls a little closer to the end of the arm, ready to drop onto Jungwoo’s branch of the machine as it passes underneath him. His stomach is starting to get all tied up in knots, the nausea beginning to hit him, but he holds fast. For Jungwoo.

_ For Jungwoo, _ he thinks as he lets himself fall. _ For Lucas. _

_ For Taeil, _ he thinks as his breath is knocked out of him once he hits the hard metal. _ For Johnny. _

_ For Jaemin _, he thinks as he scuttles closer to Jungwoo, finally gripping onto the boy’s sleeve. He doesn’t turn to look at him, likely passed out from the unbelievable force put on his body. Taeyong pants. It doesn’t make any sense for the ride to be going on this long.

_For all of them._ _I owe this to all of them._

Taeyong loops Jungwoo’s arm over his shoulder, prepared to jump once the arm gets as close to the ground as it can. It is significantly harder to keep his grip on the quaking metal when he also has dead weight to hold up, but it isn’t impossible-- even when the machine is bucking and shuddering like a rodeo bull. 

Taeyong’s forehead knocks painfully against the metal of the seat in front of him, stars bursting across his vision. He tries to blink them out of the way, knowing he can’t lose track of where the ride is in its arc. His head spins with the altitude, breaths coming in short heaves. He tries to pull him and Jungwoo up into a better position, but it’s enough of a struggle to keep them from slipping off.

He feels the arm rotate so it’s close to the peak of its flight. Any second now, it should dip down to its lowest point, right? That seems like it would be the most natural thing for them to program it to do. The pullback is probably quick, so he likely needs to anticipate it a bit lest they be flung in the other direction. Taeyong clamps down on his lip in concern as he gazes at the unresponsive body in his hands. They don’t have time for a test run.

What Taeyong doesn’t calculate for is the ride to halt at its peak the second he rolls him and Jungwoo out of the seat.

What he fails to notice is the hand operating the lever in the tinted operating booth.

Taeyong quickly pulls Jungwoo on top of him so that he’ll cushion Jungwoo’s fall. It may not make a difference, but it’s all he can do as they hurtle towards the ground.

The wind whistles teasingly by his ear as they fall. _ You failed, Taeyong. _ They sing. _ Ready to face your demons? _

Taeyong tightens his protective grip on Jungwoo as they hit the ground. “I’m sorry, Jungwoo.”

_ For Jaehyun, _ he thinks as his neck snaps backward and blackness fills his vision.

**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 46](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745243) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	15. fifteen.

_ DON’T SAY ANYTHING _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong plays with his fingers a bit, looking out at the group. He surveys them all: Jungwoo, face swollen from sobbing for hours; Jaehyun and Doyoung, who look like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders; the dreamies, who are sleeping in a pile with matching looks of distress, tear tracks down their faces. He can’t tell them. Not in this state.

He can’t do that to them.

Fingers fumbling, Taeyong selects the texts to delete them, but ultimately can’t follow through. He puts his phone down with a deep sigh. What if he needs those later? He’s always been a bit of a hoarder, especially when it comes to information.

“Okay, Taeyong. Keep it together.” he whispers to himself, “You have to be strong for them.” He makes his way back to the group and plops down right into Jaehyun’s waiting arms.

“We have to do something...We can’t stay here.” Jaehyun reminds him gently. Taeyong groans. He knows they have to go find Taeil and Johnny, but the pit of dread in his stomach roots him to the ground.

“I know.” he whispers.

He rounds up the group, or what’s left of it. Once they’re all up and standing again, Jungwoo being supported by Doyoung’s arm, they look to him expectantly. Taeyong fidgets. Truly, he doesn’t know what to do. “We...we need to leave. It isn’t safe here.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re just going to abandon Taeil and Johnny like that?” Yuta’s eyes fill up with tears. “You can’t. We _ can’t _ do that to them.”

“I…” Taeyong clenches a fist. Fuck. He can’t risk the rest of them being hurt, but Yuta has a good point.

Taeyong can’t let anyone else die on his watch.

“Okay. We’ll search for...for half an hour? An hour, at most. It’s getting way too late into the night. If we don’t find them by then, we’re getting the fuck out of here to a place where we can call the police and we’re opening a search, okay?”

“Don’t they need to be missing for twenty-four hours to start a search party?” says Chenle, still sniffling. “There’s no harm in looking for them now, right? Please...”

Taeyong’s heart breaks for the younger. He and Lucas were so close, like true brothers. “Yeah. We’ll look. Where should we start?” he glances between his boys, looking for an answer.

“We got separated from them in the corn maze, right? Why don’t we retrace our steps?” asks Sicheng timidly. A cold chill runs through Taeyong, frozen fingers running up and down his back at the thought of re-entering the maze where that man was. He’s not sure it’s a good idea, but fuck. It’s all they have. He nods reluctantly, gripping tightly onto Jaehyun’s hand.

They trudge towards the exit of the maze. There’s no point in starting from the beginning and potentially ending up on the complete wrong path, considering they only lost the pair after the freaky chainsaw incident. Right? Taeyong’s head spins-- he can’t remember clearly. When _ was _ the last time he saw them?

They slowly begin their trek through the corn. As they make turns at random, vague thought crosses Taeyong’s mind that each of them could pair up and go down each fork, which would ensure that they would find _ something_, eventually, since no one could remember their exact original path. He dismisses it immediately, though. He doesn’t want to lose track of anyone else.

He can’t have any more blood on his hands.

Jaemin shrieks from somewhere near the back of the group. Taeyong’s stomach drops into his feet, turning on a dime and scrambling back to the boy. “Jaeminnie? Are you okay, baby?”

Jaemin is standing stock still, staring at the ground near one of the corn walls. Blessedly, he’s unhurt, but appears deeply shaken, pupils trembling. “That..._that’s_ _blood_.” he rasps. Taeyong follows his line of sight. Indeed, there are what seem to be two sets of bloody footprints pressed into the dirt, disappearing directly into the corn.

“Could it be that man from earlier?” Taeyong gulps, hoping for once that it _ was _ the crazy drunk actor. If not, then…

“But there are two of them...you don’t think it could be from Johnny or Taeil, right?” Jisung’s voice pitches at the end, betraying his growing panic.

Taeyong can’t answer. He wants so desperately to be wrong, but he also doesn’t want to find out the truth. He wants to live in the ignorance he has for just a moment longer, believing Taeil and Johnny are just getting frisky behind some ticket booth.

Something he never expected to view as a blessing.

Sicheng is already shouldering his way through the corn, following the footsteps, before Taeyong can get in a word. Taeyong’s shoulders sag at Sicheng’s fierce determination; he forgot how close he is to Taeil and Johnny. Fear grips Taeyong nonetheless. They shouldn’t be investigating so recklessly like this. They aren’t some fucking white people in a horror movie.

In fact, they’re some Korean teens in a horror movie. That doesn’t seem to be much better.

The rest of the group follows Sicheng’s lead, leaving Taeyong to bring up the rear. He does so reluctantly, weakly voicing his concerns about their thoughtless decisions. 

They push through the majority of the maze until it spits them out the side. Taeyong watches with growing apprehension as the bloodied footprints stretch into the woods beyond the park. Doyoung takes a step forward.

“You’ve _ got _to be kidding me.” The words are out of Taeyong’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. He shrinks back as Doyoung turns to him in fury.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“I mean, you’re all acting completely on emotions. Think about it! Is it really a good idea to follow bloody footprints-- _ which we have no idea where or who they came from!-- _ to god only knows where in a forest, in the _ dark_, when we also have no signal?” No signal other than those distorted texts, but Taeyong chooses not to mention those.

“I can’t believe you.” Doyoung seethes. “You’re just going to let Taeil and Johnny die? Just like _ Lucas_?” The whole group looks down sullenly at the name. A crippling wave of guilt runs through Taeyong.

Mark steps forward. “They might still be out there...We have to try. We owe Lucas that much. Don’t we?” No one brings up the fact that if Taeil and Johnny _ are _ alive out there, they probably won’t be for much longer, considering how much blood was spilt over the ground they’ve walked so far. And those prints might not even be from Taeil or Johnny. They could be from someone much, much worse. Taeyong shivers. 

“I, for one, am not going to sit here and waste time while _ someone _ decides whether our lost and potentially injured brothers are worth going after.” Yuta says, stepping towards the path.

_ FOLLOW FOOTSTEPS? _

_ [→ Chapter 19](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744727) _

_ DON’T GO? _

_ [→ Chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744322) _

  



	16. sixteen.

_ KILL JAEHYUN _

_→_ _Selected!_

_ I will do whatever it takes to protect my family. _

Amidst his convulsing, Jaehyun digs into his pocket with shaky fingers and throws something at Taeyong’s feet.

“_Please.” _

It’s a rather large silver key, glinting dangerously in the dim light. The tip has been sharpened to a deadly point. Taeyong picks it up in horror. That little pink strip of duct tape on the widest part of it, marked with a #116-- this is their dorm key.

This came from Johnny.

Taeyong’s muscles tense. He looks up one last time at Jaehyun’s wide, teary eyes. For a brief, horrible moment, total sanity passes over Jaehyun’s face. His eyebrows draw together slightly, bloody mouth parting.

“I--”

_ Jaehyun holds out his hand. “Do you trust me?” _

It’s too late.

_ Taeyong places his hand in the waiting one with a slight smile. “With my life.” He says lightly, giggling a bit as the ride takes off. _

Before Jaehyun gets the chance to speak his last words, Taeyong has already plunged the key straight into his heart. 

He twists and twists as he drives it deeper, sobbing all the while. Jaehyun’s body twitches and heaves as he coughs up pile after pile of sickening red blood. It splatters across Taeyong, who lands heavily on his hands and knees in front of Jaehyun. The bloodied boy gasps a few times. He’s laying on his side, legs curled into his chest and one hand thrown over his chest. The other inches weakly towards Taeyong’s hand, but falls still before it gets there. With a final, gurgling sigh, Jaehyun goes limp, rolling onto his back with a thump.

_ You’re my rock, Jaehyun. _

Taeyong clutches at his chest in pain. He scrambles away from the boy-- _ body_\--, unable to speak. He slowly draws his knees into his chest, trembling as the weight of the situation hits him.

“J-Jae…”

Jaehyun’s body is still. The only thing moving is the growing pool of blood spreading from underneath his body. The key gleams innocently next to Jaehyun’s head, where it landed after Taeyong ripped it out of his chest.

“Oh my god,” He mumbles, hands tearing at his hair in agony. He doubles over. “Oh my god! No, no, no, no no no nono_ nono_! _ No!” _

He stares at his bloodstained hands, his vision blurring with tears.

_ I killed Jaehyun. _

On unsteady feet, Taeyong flees. He doesn’t know where his legs are taking him, and he doesn’t think they know either. Branches and sticks catch him painfully in the face as he bulldozes through the forest, tripping on roots and rolling his ankles as he sobs and screams and punches things because _ he just killed the love of his goddamn life. _

It doesn’t take long for Taeyong’s malnourished body to reach its limits. Weak and dizzy, he throws himself through a bush and starts to throw up bile. After god knows how long, Taeyong manages to crawl into clear patch of forest floor and curls up, wailing into the dirt.

Time no longer passes for him. His world stopped rotating the second the metal pierced Jaehyun’s skin.

His nails trace lines all across his body, blood welling up in some of the scratches. Taeyong retches and claws at his face and howls and cries for forgiveness and curses the world and beats his fist into the ground until all his knuckles are drenched in blood, his shirt is drenched in blood, Jaehyun is drenched in blood, _ Jaehyun is drenched in blood. _

This is how Jaemin finds him.

“What the _ fuck _ happened to you?” Jaemin’s jaw drops open. Kun gently moves Jaemin aside, dropping to Taeyong’s level. He brushes the hair out of Taeyong’s face. Taeyong blearily reaches out for Kun’s collar, pulling him in close.

“I had to!” Taeyong rasps, barely choking the words out through his sobs, “I had to-- I had to do it! You have to believe me!” He clutches at his stringy, bloody hair as he dissolves into another fit of hysterics.

“It’s okay, Taeyong.” Kun says. Or at least, that’s what Taeyong assumes he said. He hears nothing but the pounding of rushing water, Chenle’s screams and Jaehyun’s begging ringing through his ears. His vision doubles, and then triples, various Kuns and Jaemins lumbering through the clearing. They circle him like vultures, eyes red and hungry for blood. A hand reaches into his line of sight, presumably to help him up. Taeyong follows it up.

Jaehyun’s torn up face stares down at him in disappointment. His mangled mouth unhinges, opening impossibly wide to dribble blood onto Taeyong’s face. 

“Taeyong?! Yongie, stay with us!”

_ You killed me, Yongie. _ Jaehyun says sadly. _ You killed me. _

“You asked me to kill you! You begged me to! _ I trusted you!” _ Taeyong can’t breathe. Jaehyun’s hand comes around Taeyong’s throat again, pinning him into the ground. More hands burst through the gaping hole where Jaehyun’s heart should be, slashing relentlessly at him. He thrashes in their grip, screeching and howling his grief to the heavens and whoever is around to hear it.

“Calm down, Taeyong! Kun, _ drop him!_” 

All of a sudden, the clawed hands melt away, sticky fingertips leaving tar-like residue as they trail down his body, forever marking him a doomed man. Taeyong is alone, floating in an endless black void. He cannot feel. He cannot hear, or touch, taste, see, smell, or think. He drifts far, far away, to a place where all of his boys are happy and smiling and_ safe_.

Taeyong shivers, mind hazy as he slowly starts to register things again.

Touch.

His arms are thrown over two bodies. He maps out the height difference in his head-- that must be Jaemin on his left, Kun on his right. He can feel the muscles working under their skin, can feel the clunky movements as they walk.

Sound.

He can hear the snapping of twigs, the crunching of leaves underneath his feet as they stumble along. His legs feel robotic, unnaturally stiff, his joints confused about how to move across the uneven ground.

Taste.

The only thing he can taste is the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. His lip throbs from where he’s bitten it clean through. The blood on his face seems to be from something else, though.

Feel.

Taeyong feels nothing but the swirling of guilt in his gut. Butterflies are usually cute fluttery things he gets when he’s getting ready to go on a date with-- with--

Whatever is in his stomach feels more like daggers.

Sight.

Jaehyun’s sliced up face is etched into his mind’s eye, his lips bloody and eyes glassy. Tears fill his eyes, but when they drip down his cheek they are blood red.

Taeyong jolts and twists out of Kun and Jaemin’s grip, colliding with the ground in an instant. He shrieks, hands scratching at his eyes, tearing at his cheeks. Kun’s panicked voice rings out from above him, Jaemin gently trying to pry Taeyong’s hands off his face.

“Taeyong, we’re here for you. We’re okay. You’re okay.” Jaemin murmurs to him, his deep voice soothing and soft. Taeyong sucks in a shuddering breath.

He’s okay. The rest of his boys are okay-- he prays. Jaehyun said that the only way to fix things was to kill him. According to him, this should all be over. They should be safe.

_ I trust you. _ Taeyong thinks up to the heavens. _ I know you’re protecting us. _

He heaves himself onto his feet, grabbing Jaemin’s hand for stability. “I’m o-okay.” He stutters. “I’m okay.” If he says it enough, maybe he really will be. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?

Kun looks like he’s bursting with questions, eyeing the blood covering him, but he stays silent. They quietly support him all the way back to the campsite.

As soon as they breach the trees, Taeyong pulls himself away and deposits himself in the middle of the clearing, ready for questioning. The dreamies flock over to him nervously, probably trying to see if he’s injured. They look even paler when they realize the blood doesn’t belong to him.

“Yong…” Jungwoo gasps, his grip on Doyoung’s hand tightening. “What happened to you?”

_ Indeed, Taeyong. _ Jaehyun whispers to him from the dark. _ What happened to you? What happened to me? What did you do to me, Taeyong? Taeyong? Taeyong? _

“Taeyong?” Kun’s encouraging eyes bore into him.

“Jaehyun…” Taeyong starts numbly. His mouth opens and he can’t control the words spilling out. “He was acting suspicious. I followed him through the woods and he just-- he broke down. He told me he was possessed by an angry spirit, that he was creating the Husks while possessed. He said he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop from killing everyone.”

Donghyuck wails into Sicheng’s shoulder. Doyoung clenches his jaw, his knuckles turning white.

Taeyong stares at the flecks of dried blood flaking off from his palms as he rubs them together. “Jaehyun begged me to make it stop. He asked me to...to kill him.”

Renjun buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god…”

Tears well up in Taeyong’s eyes. “I didn’t want to. Oh my fucking god, I didn’t want to! But he told me this would fix things. He told me...he told me it was the only way. We should be safe now.”

“At what price?” Yuta says through angry tears, but there’s no bite behind the words. No matter how deep down, they all know that Taeyong would never have done this if he didn’t believe it was the only option. He would do anything to keep them safe.

Anything.

Taeyong fiddles with his fingers, expecting murder accusations and disbelief and blame, but there is nothing. They are all stunned into silence, until a small voice pipes up.

“I believe you.” Jungwoo says softly, rolling a strand of Jeno’s hair between his fingers as he scratches the boy’s scalp lightly. “I believe you.”

Taeyong lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. They aren’t angry at him. They’re all devastated, of course, but there’s a little flicker of hope that maybe, maybe this doesn’t have to be all sad. Maybe this can be progress. 

Maybe they can live.

Time passes as they curl up in the clearing, trying to process everything. After a while, Doyoung stands up and claps his hands. “We should keep moving.” He says simply. Everyone helps each other up, but Taeyong stays crouched on the ground, chin pressed to his knees. He doesn’t remember how to stand, how to move or function or _ live. _

_ My anchor sunk, and I’m drifting away. _

Boots come into his vision. “We’re going.” Yuta says firmly. “That includes you.”

Taeyong doesn’t respond. “This is my fault.” He whimpers, keeping his voice down. He doesn’t want the rest of them to see him crumble.

_ Too late. _Jaehyun taunts him.

Yuta’s eyes soften, his shoulders sagging. “You were...trying to protect us.” He offers a hand out. “Let’s see if it worked.”

Taeyong takes it.

He doesn’t know how long they walk for. He can barely keep track of the boys around him, let alone his surroundings. It’s not the smartest thing to do, trudge through a dangerous forest while utterly lost in his own head, but he’s trying his best to keep both feet on the ground.

He doesn’t have his anchor to center him.

Time stretches on. Someone shrieks up ahead. Taeyong’s heart speeds up in his chest, but for the first time the scream isn’t due to a death or injury.

“A road!” Jeno’s eyes gleam in the dim lighting. “A _ road!” _

The dreamies tear off, batting away branches and bushes as they sprint off ahead. Taeyong wants to scream after them to _ stop stop please stop what if it’s dangerous you don’t know what’s out there don’t go off alone please be careful please I can’t lose another please please-- _

His jaw is glued shut as he watches them with hawk eyes.

“I see headlights!”

Taeyong’s eyes widen. “Jeno!” He yells, speeding up. He trips over himself in his panic, arms pumping and heart squeezing.

Jeno barrels into the road, straight into the beam of light. “Hey!” He hollers, waving his arms at the truck. “_ Hey!” _

“Jeno! You _ idiot!” _Renjun screams. 

Taeyong breaks out onto the road with wild eyes, the sound of tires squealing amplified a million times over in his head.

Suddenly, everything stops.

_ You failed. _ Jaehyun grins at him from the corner of his vision. _ You failed, Taeyong. _

The dust settles. Renjun is sprawled on top of Jeno on the other side of the road, sobbing into his chest as he punches him weakly. “You idiot! You could’ve died!”

Jaehyun’s sharklike smile slowly fades from Taeyong’s vision.

The car door slams open, an angry woman hopping out. “What the _ fuck _ are you...” Her eyes bug out of her head at the sight of the bunch. They look half dead-- maybe worse. Without another word, she turns and punches 911 into her cell phone.

The paramedics try to ask them questions, but they have no answers. Taeyong stares straight ahead. Jaehyun doesn’t blink.

Taeyong wakes up to white, white walls, the smell of disinfectant permeating his nostrils. They’ve all been hospitalized, a nurse informs him as she brings him some water. No one has any long term injuries. They should be released as soon as they regain some strength. She draws back the thin, papery curtain to reveal another boy in the bed beside him.

“Jaehyun?” The words are out of Taeyong’s mouth before he can stop them. He blinks, and the image is wiped away. Sicheng frowns lightly at him.

It isn’t until much later that anyone speaks. The nurse gave Taeyong a little pad of paper to doodle on.

“Do you think Jaehyun could’ve lied?” Sicheng says softly. There’s no emotion in his voice. He pulls at a loose thread in the hospital blanket, watching it unravel slowly.

Taeyong sets the pencil down. The sketch of a face starts to emerge from his scribbles. It cackles.

_ You’ll never know. _ It winks at him. 

Taeyong snaps the pencil in half, startling Sicheng.

“No.” He says. He scratches out the drawing before it can develop any further.

That’s the hardest thing, Taeyong finds out later, the not knowing. The constant what ifs plague his mind every second of the day. If it isn’t running through Taeyong’s mind, it’s voiced by someone else. If no one is speaking that day, then it’s Jaehyun, or Mark or Taeil or Johnny or Ten or Chenle or Jisung that haunt his every waking moment, gossiping about him to each other, pleading for him to save them and cursing him out because he failed them.

Taeyong up and leaves one day without telling anyone where he’s going. He returns with an anchor tattooed over his heart. The tattoo bleeds, as is normal for the first week or so. 

For Taeyong, the bleeding never ends.

“I wish we knew what happened.” Renjun confesses, late one night. Taeyong presses his back against the wall, flattening himself. Renjun is sitting cross legged on the island in the kitchen, leaning his head onto Jaemin’s shoulder. Donghyuck squeezes his hand from where he’s wrapped around Jeno. They’ve got the overhead lights down low, fairy lights twinkling from where Sicheng and Jungwoo strung them up last week.

The round keychain clanks in Renjun’s palm as he toys with it. “I just want to know that it’s over. For real.”

Taeyong’s nails dig fierce crescent moons into his palm. He bites his lip to hold his tears back, fleeing to his own cold room. They don’t have closure. They may never get it, but at least the rest of his boys are alive. Taeyong, however…

“I don’t think this is living.” Taeyong tells Jaehyun as he’s lulled to sleep. The figures walking circles around his bed stop and grin at him with sharp teeth. 

_ Good. _ Jaehyun’s clawed finger digs deep into Taeyong’s chest, piercing his heart.

_ You don’t deserve that anyways. _

**N E U T R A L E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 36](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745126) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	17. seventeen.

_ DON’T CONFRONT JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

  


_ BACK. _

_ [→ Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744274#workskin) _


	18. eighteen.

_ STAY IN THE WOODS _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong insists on keeping them away from the bodies, gathering everyone in a clearing near the front of the woods. 

“Okay, everyone. Okay…” Taeyong rubs his hands together, trying to build up his confidence. “We’re going to stay here.” A few members make sour faces at the decision, but Taeyong cuts off their complaining. “We are going to try to cut through the woods and find help on the other side. Sound good?”

Reluctantly, the boys nod their heads. No one sounds very excited about the mission, which makes sense. Part of the attraction of the horror fest is that it’s smack dab in the middle of a rather remote location. It adds to the unsettling atmosphere and is supposed to be a neat spooky effect, especially being surrounded by dark woods. Often, the park uses the woods for night horror walks or scares, hence why some paths closer to the park are rather well travelled.

Where they’re going, there are no paths.

“Um...we don’t have any phone service and there are no maps of these woods, but if I remember correctly…” Doyoung bites his lip, looking up into the night sky as if it would provide him any answers. “If we can cross directly through the woods and out the opposite side, we should be able to find the road we took to get down here. I can’t guarantee that there will be any cars going by, but we can try.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

Doyoung runs his hands through his hair, fingers snagging on some snarls. “No clue. Could be a day’s walk, maybe even more with how dense these woods are.”

Taeyong can feel the mood drop even worse. He pats his backpack lovingly, trying to lessen the tension. “No need to fear, my kidlets. I _ always _ carry my all-natural, organic, non-GMO, gluten free, nonfat, low cholesterol honey nut granola bars.”

“Of course you do, mom.” Yuta says, but the nickname isn’t scathing this time. It’s just sad.

Some of the boys crack a small smile, turning to trudge along the path in the direction Doyoung hypothesizes that they should be heading.

They walk in silence for what feels like hours, and may very well be. Taeyong feels himself detach under the stress of the events of the night, feeling like he’s a million miles away. His head is stuck up in the clouds where nothing can touch him or his family. They are happy, they are healthy, they are whole, they are _ alive. _

If only.

A large, soft hand slips into his own. “Babe.” whispers Jaehyun. “We’re stopping to rest.”

“Oh.” Taeyong allows himself to be sat down. He feels numb, his mind hazy.

Jaehyun leaves him sitting on a log, flitting around to make sure everyone is okay. They’re spread out in the small clearing, sipping from their water bottles or grabbing the small snacks Taeyong forced them to pack in case they got stuck on a ride or something.

God, he wishes that was the worst of their worries.

“Hey…” says Mark, looking around at the gathering. “Where’s Ten?”

Taeyong’s stomach drops sharply. Oh, no. Oh no, no no he can’t handle having this conversation right now. He slides his eyes over to Jaehyun, who looks nauseous at the question.

“I have something to explain to you guys.” Jaehyun sits down heavily, wringing his hands together. “This is...it’s going to be a lot, probably.”

The group forms a small circle, like they do when Taeyong makes them attend group therapy talk-it-out sessions. The sessions are usually eaten up by Mark and Donghyuck bickering over something or other, but the circle feels especially small and the conversation feels especially empty tonight.

Jaehyun looks up towards the sky. “My grandmother is a psychic. _ Was _, a psychic, I mean. Psychic, medium, witch, whatever you want to call it-- that was her.”

“What?” Doyoung can’t help but laugh. “What do you mean?”

“She dealt with a lot of spiritual energies and presences. We’ve-- my whole family is sensitive to it, really. There’s a thing she would always tell me about,” Jaehyun’s hands shake harder, eyes darting around the clearing. “something called Husks.” The last word is nearly inaudible, Jaeyhun’s voice dipping impossibly low as if he’s afraid someone will hear him. But who?

“A Husk is when someone is...they act...possessed, for lack of a better word. Their mind isn’t there and their actions aren’t by their own choice. It’s complete brain deterioration.”

“That sounds like complete and utter bullshit.” Yuta snarls at him. “We aren’t in a fucking sci-fi movie, Jaehyun. Stop playing around.”

“I’m not!” Jaehyun looks up defensively. “Believe me or not, it’s not my problem. I’m just trying to help.” The group quiets for a second, not used to the flame in Jaehyun’s voice.

“Can you reverse it?” asks Jungwoo, timidly fiddling with his fingers. 

Jaehyun bites his lip. “I don’t know...I’ve never see anyone be brought back from that state. They’re _ dangerous. _Their mind and body undergo such great spiritual stress that they release all their pent up anger and aggression and attack whatever they see. They have no humanity, no emotions, no thought process. They fight to kill.” There’s a strange edge of coldness to Jaehyun’s voice, an unfamiliar look in his eye. Taeyong feels something uneasy stir deep in his stomach. His words seem strained, clipped...careful. Taeyong knows it’s probably the stress of the situation, and his heart breaks for the other boy. He can’t imagine being the one to have to break all this information.

How long has he known about these creatures? Did he always believe what his grandmother said? Has he seen one before?...Killed one before?

_ Do I not know you as well as I thought? _

Everyone shudders, falling silent for a moment. It would be easy to not believe Jaehyun, but they’ve seen so much crazy shit in the past few hours that truly anything seems possible.

“How does it happen?”

“I don’t know. I only know how to recognize one. I--” Jaehyun clamps down on his tongue, hard. He winces, and doesn’t continue.

“What does this have to do with Ten?” Chenle is the one to address the elephant in the room.

“He was a Husk.” Jaehyun whispers. His hands abruptly stop shaking, and his body goes rigid. He speaks as if he’s talking through a mouthful of honey, slow and struggling to get each word out. “I had to take care of it.”

Chenle turns and sobs into Jisung’s shoulder. The rest of them are numbed to the grief. Another one among their ranks has fallen, but at least they weren’t there to see it.

Taeyong was. And no matter how much he loves him, Taeyong doesn’t think he’ll ever get the image of Jaehyun smashing Ten’s skull in out of his mind’s eye. Every time he blinks, the pictures of his dead brothers’ bodies are etched into the back of his eyelids. There is no escape.

Yuta is the first one to rise. He stretches, wiping off some stray tears, and claims that he needs to move around or else he’ll go crazy. They were all crying, but most were crying with expressionless faces, unable to truly process the emotional meaning of Jaehyun’s words. After him, most of the boys break off to take walks or clear their head.

Jaehyun stays seated, staring intently into the ground. “I’m sorry I never told you. I couldn’t. Y-You wouldn’t understand but I _ couldn’t._” Tears shine in his glossy eyes as he turns to Taeyong wretchedly. “You wouldn’t understand. I can’t expect you to. _ ” _

“You can tell me anything. Always.” Taeyong says softly. “You don’t need to shoulder a burden like that all on your own.”

  
Jaehyun huffs. “Hypocrite.” He says fondly, slipping a hand into Taeyong’s. They sit there in the quiet for a while before Jaehyun slowly rises to his feet, shaking his bangs away from his tear stained face.

“I need some air.” Jaehyun squeezes Taeyong’s hand oh-so-gently, and Taeyong feels like a fool for ever doubting him. He picks a few blades of grass out of the ground, absentmindedly tearing them into little strips and watching them flutter to the ground.

_ What now? _

Taeyong notices Chenle is still sitting down on a log, completely unmoving. His head is on his knees, sniffling loudly. Taeyong feels his heart shatter. He slides down the log towards Chenle, tenderly putting his arms around the smaller boy. He doesn’t speak for a few moments because he doesn’t know what to say. What the hell do you even begin to say in this sort of situation?

Taeyong aims for the distraction route. “Hey, Lele. I like that keychain.” 

Chenle chokes out a small giggle and reaches for the object clipped to his bag. “You said that earlier.” It’s the oval shaped piece of plastic with a glass circle in the center, the one with the decorative trim and pretty designs.

“Means I like it twice as much. Where did you get it, anyways?” Taeyong’s never seen anything like that in his life.

Chenle brightens up just a little bit, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the smooth plastic. “I made it. It was a piece to a game Jisung and I were playing last night, and I thought it was really pretty.”

“It was part of a game? Well, now how are you going to play it? That piece isn’t with the rest of it! I guess that’s an automatic win for you, then?” Taeyong tries to tease him lightly. Chenle’s face doesn’t change.

“You can’t win in the game we were playing.”

Taeyong backs off a bit. “Oh. How so?”

Chenle steamrolls his question entirely, still fumbling with the charm. His muscles look locked up, shoulders stiff. “Jaehyun was in the room with us, but didn’t want to play. I think that was a bad idea. Would you play with us, Taeyong?” Chenle’s expression breaks. “When we get out of here, I mean. Will you play with us?”

“Of course, Lele.” Taeyong ruffles Chenle’s hair fondly, smoothing it away from his eyes. To be honest, there isn’t much Taeyong _ wouldn’t _do for his boys once they got out of this mess.

If.

“Y-Yong?” Chenle twists his hands in the hem of his sweatshirt. “I’m scared.”

Taeyong feels a chunk of his heart get ripped out. His babies are terrified and there’s nothing he can do to make them feel safe. “Oh, _ honey _, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, Lele, I promise. We all will. Do you understand?”

Chenle sniffs, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “Yes.”

“Now, go play with the dreamies!” Taeyong encourages the boy, giving him a gentle push with his hand. Chenle, a natural social butterfly, was way more likely to feel better if he was up and active with some friends, and god knows the dreamies will treat him right. Chenle just needed a little push.

Taeyong sits on his own by the corner of the clearing, watching everyone mill about. He knows his phone is useless at the moment, save for the flashlight, but he idly spins the dark device in his hands regardless. Suddenly, it buzzes.

“What in the world…” Taeyong unlocks the phone with shaking fingers, and is met with a single text. It’s from the same distorted unknown number, the strings of numbers misshapen and glitchy. It’s a single video attachment.

He glances around. No one is looking his way-- everyone is distracted. What the hell could this be…He clicks on the video cautiously. It’s so dark he can barely see anything, and all he can hear is a faint rustling-- like wind blowing. He squints at it and turns up his brightness. As soon as the video comes into focus, he immediately slams the phone down in horror.

His body heaves forward, pitching him onto his hands and knees as he chokes. “_What the fuck!” _

The phone pings over and over again, the home screen lighting up and filling with messages. They’re all blank.

_ Maybe I didn’t see what I thought I saw…It’s can’t be real. _ Taeyong thinks to himself, sitting up and desperately combing through the group around him. _ It’s impossible! I didn’t let anyone out of my sight! _

_ Right? _

He unlocks the phone and pulls up the video again. After the series of blank messages, he gets an actual message...if you could even call it that. The text bubble itself is misshapen and stretched, the words so distorted he can’t make any of them out. The screen flickers through various bright colors, the flashing disorienting Taeyong and making his head ache.

_ C̷̨͔̣̺̥̮͉͉̲̬̪̰̟̱̯̣̥̳̝̞͉̲͎͕͙̮̳͎̓͜A̴͈̪̞̘̋̿̐̐Ņ̴͓̲̹̘̰̱̬̹̣͉͇̩͔̀́̂̌̽͑̓̄͋͘͝T̴̢̡̧͔̝͕͙̯̜̫̺̖͍͙̬̰̦̺̺̽ _

_ ̷̩͈̳̞̱̅́̈́̌͐̄D̷̢̛̛̬̳̤̥̪͓͔̟͙̤͍̭͓̈́̅͆̎̄́̌̐̅̓̄̿̿̈́̒̊̎͗̇̆̔͝͠Ö̴̫͑́̚N̷̖̣̱̺̝̈͛́͆̔̄̐̈́̅͊́̌̑̅̑͂̎͛̃̍̉̿͜͝͝T̷̨̧̢̛̠͉̟̯̹̱͉͍̲͎̲͖̮͉͔̝̗̪̥̥̙̻̞͓̓͛̿̌̏̈́͂̌͜ͅͅͅT̷̰͙̹̞̀͋̐̈͒̈́̇̈́̓̿̈́͊̾͂́͆̚͜͝ͅJ̴̡̡̢̬̞̜̯̦̫̮͕̠̙̱̞͈̝̥̻̦̖̼̗͚̜̝̊̓̽̌̈́̈́̈́̿͝ͅ _

_ ̶̣̦͓̥̝̲͖͙͙̜͍̮͊͒͛͑̉̚T̵̜̙̼̠͎͓̱͕̳̙̖̹̠͚̠̜̼͔̣̬͉̝̭̝̖̿̄̾̔̿̿͋̋̽͜͜R̷̛͇͕̭̰̉͂̉͗͒̉͗̈́̌͒͆̏̓͊̌̊̚͝͝͠ͅU̸̡̺̼̘͙̪̔̋̋̒̓͆̉̋̉̉͗̉̽́̈́̈́͌̕̕̕̚͝S̸̡̙̯̫̼̪͚̎͜Ť̴̛̖̤̥̪̠̺̹̾̿͂̈́̉̏̐̅̂͋̾̓̿̅̄̋̈̕̚͝͠͝͝ͅ ̸̛̛̭̦̤͉̼̱̌̐̉̀͋̐̋̐͗͌̀̓͛̊̕̕J̴̧̧̫̺̥͔̳̗̺͉̣͚̣̬̖̬̪͕̘̞͔͎̣̗̙͍̃̎͒̊̐͆͆̉̈̈́́̿̏̉̈́̏̿̉̽̓̓̎̿̋̕̕͝ _

_ ̶̱̪̣̼̯͂̒̃̔̾͒̂̄̆̅̔͝͝ͅͅP̶̢̡̢̲̳̺͔͍̰̘̗̱̯͔̹̘̠͕͈̪̤̋̈͝ͅĻ̴̢̛̱͍͈͉̞̣̭͓͎͙̹̮͇̙̜͕͍̫̝̖͖͓͔̮̪̭̠̅̌̾̓͋͂͋̈͆̆͌̆͋̑̃̏̕͘̕͜͠͠͠͝͠E̵̢̺̙̞͚̲̦͓̭͓̞̫͙̲̰͐Å̸͙̹͗̐̑́̾͐̋̿̍͒̋̿͛͗̕͝S̷̛̲̰͉̮͉̩̞͍̓̐̆̌̂͂͌͑͑̓̈́̊̽̈́̑͛͘̚͝ ̸̖͔͙͎̾͐͋̔̌͌̃͒̍́͛̾̊̎̈́̆̔̿̔̌͒͋̆ͅĘ̴̛̝͕̤͎͈̘͂̎͗͊̂̋̚̚͝͠P̸̧̢̨̦̮̞̙͈̻͔̱̱̖͙̯̱̮͔͈͇̲̣̫̺͍̦͓͑̌̈͛͛̐̀̊̌̎̚ͅL̴̢̨̨̨͚̝͙̹̪̝̺̯̳̜̰̜̦̻̯̣̥͖̞͍̈́͛̆̄̌̈́̚͝Ȩ̸͎̫͉̰͈̗̜̟͋̄̓̾́̆̑̂̈́̇̈́̊̈́͆̂͒̐̏̿͋̈́͑̃̿̅̈́͜͝P̶̢̡̢̢̛̛͈̲̖̖̝̥͖͔͙̰̻̼͕̹̰͇̩͍̯̥͙̬̼̲̈́̎̊̌̌̆͂̔̆̅̆͆̏̇̐̈̓̾̐̚͘͘͜͜͝ͅĄ̷͉̺̻͈̤̪̤̤̯͓̠̫̦̼̱̞̳̆̓̒̋͛̈̋̈́̋͛̑̇̈̓͠͝S̴̥̣̰̼͇͎̦̟̙̭͖̠͎̱͎̞̭̻͔̠̘̳̼̝͚̅̀̇͂̽͒̑͌͌͆̋̈͆͘͠͝E̴̛̳̰̮̩̒̈́̀̑̀̈̀̏̓̊́́̍̀̓̚͘͘͝P̴̗̫̤̮̥̟̘̳̝̙͇̺̯̳͈̥̤̹̠̤̤͚̊̐̐̔̏̍̃͌̋͛͊̍̕͝͝͝L̵̛̲̇̃͌͒̓̔͊̇͛̐̇͂̒̌̏͐̃͛̄̈̀̆̕Ȩ̷̛̱̘̱̙̖̜͚̟̙̘̹͈̉͆̒̆̿̇̀̆̒̀̋̄̅́͂̽̆̈́̒͌͂̉͐̂̕͘̚͝P̶̢̢̨̛̳͇̖̺̮̱̼͎̤͔͙̜̥̱̲̪͓̥̖̜̞̼̂̾̉̐͂̈́̐̽͋̏̄̃͋̽͊̇͛̈̍͐́͊̂̌̅͘͝ͅͅA̶͉̹̥̽̈́̃̑́̌̎͛̂̓̔̎̔̌̊͆̈́̃͘̚ͅL̶̨̹̦̭̣̆̆̂̔́̿͐̎͒͂͐̒̏͂͑̀̇̄̂̀͘S̴̙̖̲͌͒̈́͑̉̈̋͊̑͘̕͝ ̵̡̡̢̡̡̟͉͉͔̻̫̻̼̬͉̮̙̱̺̣͎̬͓͆̽̏̓̈͋̄̀̋͌͒͐̈̽͂̿̅͘ͅͅȨ̸̠̻̹̼̻̝̠̤̙̣̯̗̣̜̜͐́͑͜P̸̧̛̛̛̌́̔̐̈́̊̒͒̏͊̀͑̏͛̕̚͝L̸̨̧̛̛̯̺̻̼̻̘̤̮̱͚̬̯̈́̈̉̄̓̒̽͒͂̐̅̈́̎̀̅̒̀̚ͅP̶̥̲̪̜̈́̅̎̿̍̃̅̐̀͂́̚̚̚͠͝Ą̷̡̢̨̧̱͓̖͇̭̝̹̣͈͖̫̮̞̰̫͔̼͎͎̲̪̠̫̯͔̎͐̈́̍̄̏͗̃̆͂̽͌̚ͅL̷̢̢̯̺̣̲͍̥̲̦̩̮̼̺̺̫̫̫̹̰̎̈́̋͂͊̄̃A̶̢͍̹̗̮͙̹͈̘̪̱̤̫͖̦͙̜̲͊̈́͗̑̓̂̀͒̃̑͐̂̐͆̎̀͜͜ͅͅP̸̨̬̜̼̩͔̟̻̩̭̥̰̹̬̦̜̅̓̇̏̏͆̀̃͛͊͗̂̃̇͘̕͜M̶̧̛̞͋͆͌̊͛̓̔̂͌͘͜Ŝ̸̨̧̛͎̬̘̳͕̯̟͔͉̘̯̺̳̫̹̦̲̲͇̤͚̔̈́̋̌̍͒̎͂̄̎̉̅̑̇̒̓̋̎͐͒̀͋͆͆͝͝K̴̛̛͙̰̥̳̼̻̫͔͍͍̓́̋̏̇̃͒̾̈͒̕̕͠ͅM̸͔̩̰͍̣̫͕̍̆̑͊̍͂̊͐̐̓̃̒͋̍̿̉̒̽̑͑͘͝ͅP̷̧̛̥̥̠̹̤̖͎͖̠̙̤̟̞̼͚͉̀̔̃̓̋̄̃̓̒̾͆̍͊͌͂̑̌̉̃̿̑̒̽̚͘̚̕͠L̷̝̰͉͈͈̹̣̱͍̥̈́̌̔̌̋̓͆̅̍̂̎̾́͆̇̆̉̎̚̚̕Ș̶̛͕̯̱̯͍͐̃̈͋́́̓͛̈́̿̃̑̂̋̿͘͜͠Ş̷̧̛̛̦̖̻͇̩̹̪̙̮͇̈͛̾̅̇̒̾̇̀̓̍̓͌̚͘͝͠͠ͅP̴̡͍̥͇͖͇̙͔̳̩͕̼͎͂͆͆̋̐̏͑̓̿̾̿͑̃̊̓̈́͐̚̕͘ͅĖ̴̛̳͔̏͌̓͛̓̋͌̃̂̋̾̋ ̴͔͕̊̉̽̏̓̒͑̒̾̔͊͆̃̍͋̊̃̽̉̂̎͆̐͠ ̴̘͙̬̫̫̞̲̬̯̌̃̓̃͑͑͂̃͊̀̇̍͊̓̊̀̎̎͗̎͒̏͘͠Ş̴̡̨̨̡̖̫͚̖̺̻̺̣̮̪̞̞̻̬͎͈͍̲̖̰̬̫̑̔͐̄̓̐̔͆̽͂͌̆̇̈́͘͝Ȇ̸̹̉̇͗̋͌̈́̍̑͂͋̄̾̎̃̊̚͠T̷̡̡̨̢̨͈͕̤͉͚̖͓͈͚̮̮͓̘̱̟̪͎͔̞͑̈́̍̓̈̄̆̌͋͂̔̅͌̉͑͗̓͜͠ ̷̡̡̛̗̱̥̩̥͔̝̲͈͕̹̣̲̥̥̣̰̖̥͍͖͔̣̳̒̿̾̏̓̎̃͊̓̈́̏̌̍̃͐̊͗̓̓͆̒̈͋̏́̚͘͠͝M̶̨̛̼͓̙̟̝̤̞͛̐̊͒͐̄̂̍̈́̃͆̔̓̇̔͗̕̚̕͝ͅȨ̵̞̩̮̲̠̺̩͉̬̗͎͎̠̳͍̼͎̞͈̼͚̼̲̞̙̈̅̈́̃͊̎̈́̆̈̈́̓͆̾̓́̌́̅͑̅͒̚͝ͅ ̵̡̛̱̳̞̫̭̫̗͉̩̼̞͚̱͖͉̈́̈́̌̑̅̃̔̌̋͋̀̃̊͂̄̿̉̉̽̒̄͘̚͜͝E̸̢̛̝̫͙̩̞̘̟̦͙͚͈̯͉̖̎̌͐͗̽͋͊̐̋̃͌͆͊̚͘͘͜F̸̡̲͎̗͉̝̬̼͉͖̱̝̠͕̭̗̾̊̒͂̈̉̊͊͑̓R̸̡̞̝̣̞̱̭̺̮̗̟̺̼̥͈̟͑͑̒̓ͅĘ̸̛͉͇̜̼̺̜̬̫̦̖̻̗̫̊̍̉̾̔̽̌̐̽̎̉͂͆̉͛̄̚̚͝͠E̵̢̧̛̟͓̣̻͖̭̻̖͓̲͇͖̯̦̝̯̞͖̥̱̥̊̐͂͐͆̊̽͝͝ͅ ̵̧̡̧̛̛̖̟̬͎̮͔̭̰̳̗͈̞̞͈̫̠̳̙͔̣͖͓̗̜̰̣̹̇̍̅̍̔̈́͛̕̕͘͜͠S̶͕̺̼̦̮̦̼̯̹͙̜̿̚Ȩ̸̨̢̛̛̘̪̭͕̳̳̪̝͎̩̪͎͓̫̘͓͖̗̰̺̪̟̄̅͗̍́͐͗̈͑̀͗̃̈̑̿̊̏͜͝ͅT̶̢̛̖͖͈͇̤͇͕͙͌̄́͛̾̅̇̇̈̍̌̓̏̇̈͛͂̈́͑͐͂̎̓̑̀̚͜͝͝ ̵͖̲̗̻̝͔̰͓̥̝̪̔̐̋͑̅̾̇̆͛̓͋̔͋̓̉̿͘͜͝͝M̶̧̢̡̛̻̩̞͈̪̞͇̼̲̹͓̟̜̦̺̗͙̲̘̣͕̪̭̫̈́̉̏̀̑͐̆̍͗̆̍͊͂̎̃̓̈́͊͗̈̕͜͠͝͝͝ͅĘ̷̢̡̡̡̗̥͇̪̜̗͔͉̯̻̬̻̼̠̠̣̣̗̹̳̪̠̥̳̅̃̌͒́̆̌́̈́̅͊̈́̓̃̑͑̽͊͋̉́̕͝͠ͅ ̴̢̡̨̛͓̳̯̭͓͕̬͔̲̗͈̬̟̼̲̗͈̌̈̐̌̔̃͋̆̀̈͊͂̍̄͐̆̉̄̽́̓̈́͘̚͘͜͠͠͝͠͠F̷̡̡͙͇̖͐̽͂̍̆͆͗̀̊̓͌͆̽̄̈́́̈́́͊̓̏̚͠͝R̶̨̢̨̛̥̰̭͓͈̳͕̪͓̺̫͙͉̘̳̜̮̖̭͉̓̿͑̄̇͆̔̉̈͋̈́̇̋͆̕̚͠͝͠E̵̡̛̘̱͉̫͍̤̦̜̙̖͕̙͓̠̩̩̤̖͑̾̈́͊̀̇͗͂̈̈́͊͋̅̈́͛͗͋͗̐͘̚͝ͅS̵̜̙̞̓̓͒̋͛̐̔̓̂̍̄̄̓̄̆̽͘͠͝Ś̴̢̡̡̭̼̗͖̘̝̥̳̘͈̳̤͓̠̘͎̋̅̔̆̍̈́̽͘ ̷̨̨̩̝̰̼̲͎͖͉̗̺̼̗͕͚͖̳̼̦̖̼͉̞̠̠̏̍̐̾́̅̐̈́̎́͌̃͊̈̿̎̔̆͊͘̕͘͜͜͜͠͝S̸̛̭̏̎̈́̈̄̐̋͂̈́̓͋͒͛̒͛͒̎̊̑̿̆̀͒̔̚͠Ḛ̶̡̳͍̝̗̳̥̙͎̘̠̬͖͚̹̦͎̻̼͇̩̙̗̙͎̤̪́̎̽͒̾͋̌͆͋̋̆̾̀̂̈́̇͒͑̓̕̚͝ͅT̵̡̢̡̛̬̪̦̱̳̤̣͍̲̯̖̲̩̗̭̹̹̗̗̍̓̋͛̈́͝ͅ ̵̢̡̢̡̢̭̜͎̞̝̟̼͉̼̹̪̺͓̰̜̼̳̠̞̘̹͊̽̇̊̅͌̎̒͛̄̀̀̌͛͂̃͂̒̽͐̅̆̓͊̕̕͜͝͝ͅM̸̨̱̪̜̗̺̮̳̞̥̗̺̰̗͔͑̀̔̿͑̊͂̍͋̌͐̚̚͘̕͝R̴̢̨̖̰̗̹͉̖̣̯̙̤̞͔̩͇̥̙̙͙̦̍́͆͒͜͜Ê̸̛͍̪͇͔̫͈̰̏̊F̵̡̛̺͎͌̂̉̆̃̐̐̆̾̂͐͊͗̔͐͗͆̔̿͐̒̎̚̚͘̕̕͝ͅR̶͚̼̱̣̠̺̠͙̲͍͍͆̎̉̌̀̎͑̄̈́̂͒̌̀̅͛̾̉̾̎̏̕̕̕͜͝E̷͇̤̥̥͚̼̙̞͇̱̱̰͎̘̳̰̍̆̿́͗̀̊̋̃̈́̌͊͂̎̓͂̈́͊͘̕͝͝͝ͅĖ̵̛̱̯͙̯̝͇̭̘͔̖͛͑̅̄̇̃̇͊̀͛̇̈́̐̑̾̅̉͂͐̐̍͘̕͘͝͝͠S̴̨̤̼̮͓͎̠͌̂̌̍̎͑͋̎͊̒͗͗̊̔͝͝Ë̵̢̨͖͇͖̗̮̮̘͕̩̼͖̟̭̺̠͇̘͕͚̦̹̙̫̞́̓̉̿̐̿̿͘ͅͅͅT̵̨̳̪̺̲̫̫̺̟̥̣̞̳̳̬͔̤̠̱̈̋̐̽̓̊̑̄̓̑̌͊́̈́͝M̸̲̯͔̱̹̹̙͕͉͖̒̀̑͌̉̈́͂̈̄̌͆̄̌̈́̈̉̈́͑̎̚͘̚͝Ê̵̢̢̛̛͍̙̺̣̫͔͓̼̫̼̗̋́̅̉͗̒̊͐͌͒͂̈́͂̿̿̀̈́̃̑̕̚̕͠ͅF̷̢̛̳̳͓̣̅̋̈́̾̎̅̿͛͋̀̅͘͘͜R̸̠̦̎͗̍̍͒͂̐͌̈́̀̆̈́̅̒̾̇͒̿͐̒͘̕͝Ẽ̵̢̧̢͈̯̹͈̤͇̟̹̩̝͓͓͚̻̺̝̝̝̖̼̗̻̹̜̓̈́͑͗͂͑͘̕̚͜͜͠͠Ê̸̢̧̬̮̮͈̬̞̭͈͙̣̞͓͚͔̗͙͓͉̣̲̩͎̘͔̳̓̃̈́̍͋́̐̽̊̄̋͜͠Ḩ̷̢̨̛͈̫͉̭̩̯͔̭͔̼̺̭̰̞͈͉̝̏̉̄̑̋̏͑̍͒͛͌̓͆̂͛͌͗͑̆̅̄͘̕͘̚͜͜E̷̤͖̪̭̝͚̣͉̟̙͚̙̫͖͔̻͇̘̙̰̾͐͜͜L̸̡͕̺̺͉̂̓̊̉͛̂̽͒̎̾͠P̷̧̢̨̨̱͎͎͇̰̘̭̳͙̼̼̺̼̻̮̭̙̲̟͉̜͇͓̰͉͚̍̑͛͐͆͌͛͊͠͠H̵̜͍͍̙̯͙͓̏̓̈́͋̅̀̃̑̆͛͒̂̕͘͘̕͝E̵͕̬̦̟͍͙̯̺̮̤͔̻͔̼̞̹͘͜L̴̡̮̖͈̣̘͉̫̰̬̪̲̺͎̋̔̑͗̂͛͐̇̀̏̌͛̈̏̄̿̐͊̔̉͆̔͘͘̚ͅP̴̝͆͑́̇̆̀̅̇̋͐͂̓̔̀̾̂̿͒̒̚̕͠͝͝͝ _

_ ̴̨̢̧̡̛̛̞͚̘̺͉̻̱͖̭̘̘̩̺̻͍͖̟͈̬̤͇̯̑͋̿͒̅̈̽̿̅̐̎̀̓͌͑̇͆̒̊̈́͆͌͘͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅ _

_ ̵̛̛̱̩̗̭̰̺͚̭͓̣̩͈̬̩̺̫̪̲̼̟͍̱̑̓͌̒̔̃̾͐̎̔̓͆̌̈̉̈̈͂̇̐̑̌̃̑̋́͘͝͝ͅͅͅD̶̢̯̼̯̹̜̦̞̬̯̘̲͓̺͖͉̱̱̺̣͇̤̞̙̊͌͑̈́̌́̚̚͜͜͝Ǫ̵̢̛̫̟͙̙̦̰̘͍͇͇͗̈́̄̅͑͛̋N̴̡̛̛̟̦͕̝̞̩̹̪͓̬̩̯̞͛͆̓̔̾̾̅̈́̾̐͘T̵͉̞͈̩͔͉͕̜̰̖̻̱͚͕̐̎̔͂̍̄̐͒̈́̉̇͑͗̈̈́͌̿̾̈̎͋͘͠͠ͅ ̸̨̟͓͔̜̠͙̪̹͕̜͕͕̹̪̬̻̖̤͙̟̺̓͊͛̆T̸̡̛̞̟̖̹͐͆̏͑̿͒̿͋͊̋͜͝R̶̢̧̢̧͓̲͚̻̯̻̙̹̙͙͖̬͇̺̦͉̲͖͉͍̙̅̌́͂̏̏̐̎̆̀͗̾͌̃͑̾͂̋̕ͅŲ̵̢̧̡̼͈̦̳̝͉̪̦̼̇̑̓̓̅͊̒͝ͅͅŚ̶̨̧̧͈͍̼̘̞̬͓̥͓̥̟͈̹̳͙̪̖̊̄̒̄̇̽͂̈́̅̅̿̉̂͒̂͑́͗͊͒͐̽̕̕̕͜ͅŢ̶̧͉͍͓͕̘̞͇̫̺̻̦̯̯̮̤̔͑͗̓̆̈̎̏̃̉͐̊͆̍͌͂̕͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̴̨̨̢̡̡̺̬̮̘̜̰͎̹̗͔̝͓͕͓͔͔̥̜̻̘̥̳̲̼̙̃͐̔͒̽̽͐͊̂͛̈́̓̊̔̿̌̃̒̈́̑̎͊̚̕͝J̶̡̨̡͔̫̦͈̪̫̬̮̬͕͖̱̹͇͕̞̭͓͕̑͗̉͐̀͌̐̈́̄͑̂́̓̊̈́͗̄̾̈́̈̈́̐͋͒̏̕͜͠͝͝ _

He stares at the message in shock, mouth dropping open. He swipes to the number and tries to hit block, but the button doesn’t work. Each time he presses it, it undoes itself. He can’t delete the chat, he can’t delete the number, he can’t escape. 

Taeyong tries to scroll back up to the video to delete it-- fake or not, he doesn’t want to see that ever again, but his phone abruptly shuts down. The bright glow of the apple symbol is the only light in the clearing as it slowly turns itself back on, Taeyong not having touched a single button. The brightness makes other members gravitate towards him, curious.

Taeyong yelps. As soon as the phone turned on, an airdrop bubble popped up, with the same video. It has no sender, but each time Taeyong declines it it sends again, and again, and again, until his phone is nearly unusable. Taeyong is close to hyperventilating now, fingers flying. A few of his boys wrap themselves around him, trying to calm him down.

“Taeyong? Taeyong! Yong, what’s the matter!”

He accidentally clicks on one of the videos, pulling up the photo album of his phone. To his shock, his entire photo album is gone, replaced by that _ fucking video. _ It begins to copy itself over and over and over in his library, hundreds and hundreds of versions flooding his phone.

Sicheng wrenches the phone from Taeyong’s white knuckled hands as Taeyong howls in grief.

“Don’t look!”

Sicheng opens it.

It’s a thirty second long video. The lighting is quite dim, but it’s enough-- enough to see the body impaled by a tree branch, that is.

Sicheng gasps, covering his mouth as tears well up in his eyes. The video was taken from somewhere below the body, the unnatural angle making it look like the person who filmed it dropped their phone and accidentally left it recording. The body is turned so its shoulder is facing the camera. From the side, you can perfectly see the branch rammed straight through its chest, blood dripping onto the ground. Its arms are limp, and its shoes have fallen off. The face is obscured, but anyone who looks at it knows it is obviously, irrefutably, heartbreakingly, Mark.

“Mark…” Sicheng utters, and that is enough to throw the entire group into complete chaos.

“Where is he?!” Renjun screeches, spinning from member to member. “I don’t see him! _ Where is he!” _ Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck catch him by the arms, holding him down and trying to quiet him as they look towards Sicheng and Taeyong. Most of them can tell what has happened, but they just can’t bring themselves to believe it.

Sicheng gulps. “I-I’m sorry. He’s gone…” Against his better judgement, he slides the unlocked phone into the middle of the huddle in case anyone wants to see for himself. With each passing second, each boy’s face grows more and more pained, their hearts breaking.

_ They let one of the kids die. _

A crackle sounds from the bushes near them. Taeyong feels his heart rate increase, muscles tightening. Two figures step out from the underbrush.

“What’s wrong?” says Jaehyun, clutching Chenle’s hand. “I just brought Chenle to go to the bathroom, what happened?” He notices the anguished features of everyone in front of him, eyes roving the room.

Taeyong doesn’t speak, just offering him the phone. Jaehyun’s eyes widen impossibly, and drops it as soon as the video starts. “_ No!” _

Everyone nods sullenly. Jaehyun refuses to let Chenle look.

“How did this happen?” Jeno sobs brokenly, “We were all together! Where even is h-he?”

“No one-- no one goes anywhere without a buddy and, and without notifying the group.” Taeyong cries. “We need to stop losing track of people!”

Yuta stands straight up. “I recognize that place.”

“How? There were no landmarks, no nothing!”

Yuta shivers, looking ill with grief. “I can’t explain it. But I can lead you there…We need to find him. We have to know for sure. Please, what if it’s just some sick prank?”

Taeyong feels like he’s going to throw up. He can’t go. He can’t see his little baby lion, the boy he’s raised for years like his own damn son, dead in a tree. He can’t.

He can’t.

“I’ll go with you.” Jaehyun volunteers himself quietly, noticing the sickly pale shade Taeyong’s skin has taken on at the prospect. Taeyong nods at him thankfully, and Jaehyun and Yuta, along with some of the older members, disappear into the night.

“Please be safe.”

Taeyong doesn’t know how much time passes before they return. He spends it mainly cuddling the dreamies, letting them cling to him for comfort. He murmurs words of comfort into their ears that he doesn’t believe, words he doesn’t even remember saying. His vision is cloudy, his head pounding. They’ve lost so much. God, they’ve lost so _ many. _

He’s staring down at the ground when a pair of muddy shoes enter his vision. He looks up carefully; Jaehyun is standing in front of him with his head down, shoulders shaking violently as he gasps for breath. He’s holding one beat up sneaker in his left hand.

“I’m sorry.”

Taeyong gets up, shell-shocked, and stumbles his way into Jaehyun’s arms. He blinks numbly. He’s unable to feel anything but the searing pain of grief deep in his heart.

“How the _ fuck _ did you know where he was, huh?” Donghyuck shrieks, beating his fists into Yuta’s chest. Yuta just lets him do it, tears pouring down both their cheeks. He doesn’t speak.

Jaemin gently pulls Donghyuck off the taller boy and starts shushing him. Taeyong cringes at the scene.

They’re falling apart.

Jaehyun mobilizes the boys and forces them to start moving forward again. Taeyong knows that there’s no point in loitering around that part of the woods, especially when there’s clearly still danger, but he can’t bring himself to speak to the very group of people he’s let down again and again. He allows Jaehyun to call the shots for a moment.

Taeyong staggers through the woods on Jaehyun’s arm, watching the scenery go by. Everything looks the same, just trees and bushes and branches and blood and--

He trembles. 

Finally, the environment changes a bit. The cluster of trees break, spitting them out into a lush, wide and open space by a lake.

“Wow…” Doyoung breathes, looking out at the body of water. “I never knew this was out here.”

“Neither did I.” says Jaehyun. “Does this mean we’re on the right path, or are we really off?”

Everyone shrugs. They all just pray that they’re still heading in the right direction-- these woods seem to be bigger than they thought.

“Shall we camp here for the night?” Kun suggests, looking at the exhausted faces of the kids. They’ve all cried out themselves out at this point, eye bags dragging their skin down, eyelids closing and heads nodding back.

Jungwoo worries at his lip. “Just...not too close to the lake, yeah?”

They start setting their bags down in the woods surrounding the lake. “Hopefully by morning it’ll be easier to move, and we can get help.” Taeyong says, trying to instill some life into his downtrodden members. “It will be okay.”

Jaehyun and Taeyong split up their food and feed the rest of the boys before waving them off to bed. They have to just sleep on the ground, covered only by the light fleece jackets Taeyong insisted they bring even if they didn’t think they would get cold at the amusement park.

Oh, how he wishes he could rewind.

Jaehyun looks as if he’s going to fall asleep as well, but Taeyong tugs on his arm. “Can we talk…” He asks shyly. Jaehyun visibly seizes up. “Not about...Not about Ten.” Taeyong amends. There’s nothing more to say about that. He doesn’t even want to touch the topic right now.

He leads the other boy down the small incline and out by the lake, out of earshot of the rest of the boys. They sit staring out at the gleaming water, the moonlight reflecting gently off of the surface.

“We need to put an end to this.” Taeyong starts, not looking at Jaehyun. He skips a rock into the lake, the pebble sending ripples out on all sides. “We can’t let anyone else be hurt.”

Jaehyun swallows hard. “I know…who do you think could be behind this?”

Taeyong faces him tearfully. “I don’t _ know_! At first I thought it was that crazy chainsaw horror actor, but we haven’t seen any evidence of him for ages now. With Mark, that must have been someone from our group, right? We’re alone out in these woods, aren’t we?”

“There’s no way to be sure…” Jaehyun looks immensely uncomfortable. “How can you pin the blame on one of our own?”

Taeyong bristles. “I’m just trying to keep everyone’s best interests in mind. We can’t be blind to any possibility! It could be anything!”

Jaehyun hums lowly. “Then what about Yuta? He seems to have a bone to pick with everyone lately.”

“If Yuta was hurting people, I’d be the first one on his list.”

“Maybe he’s doing this to throw you off? You said it yourself-- we can’t be blind to any possibility.”

Taeyong tilts his head, thinking hard. “Well now that I think about it...hasn’t Doyoung been acting rather odd?”

“Odd how?”

“Like...he’s the one directing us here, but we only seem to be getting more and more lost, you know? What if he’s leading us into a trap?”

Jaehyun winces. “That’s possible. And I don’t think he could be behind any of this, but Chenle has been looking really, really sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Taeyong feels like his world is about to crash down around him, more than it has before. “J-Jae...You don’t think he’s turning into a Husk, right?”

_ Please say no, please please say no_.

“I can’t be sure, but I don’t think so. We should keep an eye on him though-- really on all the dreamies. They’re so fragile.”

Taeyong’s head swims at the concept of the Husks. He’s consumed by the _ who, what, where, when, why, how_\-- questions that will likely never be answered. “Speaking of those...those Husks, Jaehyun.” Jaehyun flinches, looking up at him.

“Please don’t hate me.” He whimpers.

Taeyong’s heart breaks. He puts an arm around Jaehyun. “I was actually going to say thank you...I know it must’ve been a hard decision to make, but you were just looking out for me. Ten wasn’t going to be saved either way, so you saved my life instead. Thank you.”

Jaehyun’s eyes well up with tears, and he buries his face into Taeyong’s neck. “You’re my everything. I’d die if you got hurt.”

“And you’re my anchor, Jaehyun. My rock. You’ve kept me grounded this whole time. You’ve helped me keep the boys in check, raise their spirits when I can’t, lead when I shut myself off. Thank you for letting me put my trust in you, and I’m sorry I ever doubted you. You always have my back.” Taeyong sniffs, leaning in to plant a kiss on Jaehyun’s lips.

“Always.”

With that, they walk up the small rocky cliff and retire to bed. It isn’t a comfortable sleep. Taeyong is already used to lack of sleep after all the late nights finishing chores, work, or just dealing with the younger kids as they come to him at different points of the night. He’s dozing at best, on the brink of a deeper sleep, when he hears a splash.

At first he thinks it’s just part of his dream, but it comes again. And then again. It sounds like someone is struggling, almost like…

Taeyong’s eyes pop open, jolting him upright. What the fuck was that? He listens carefully in the still night, ears straining. 

_ Splash!_

It’s definitely real. It sounds louder now, more urgent. Taeyong looks to see who’s missing from around him, but it’s too dark to tell. Clearly though, someone is in trouble. 

“Guys…” Taeyong stands up, his vision covered in static by standing up too fast. He feels drowsy, unsteady on his feet. A scream rings out from somewhere to his right.

“Guys! Something’s wrong!” He shouts, trying to shake the boys around him. It doesn’t seem like anyone else wakes up. Fuck it, he’ll have to break his own rule and go alone. He starts to run towards the noise, his nervous system propelling him down the small hill at speeds he’s never reached before.

_ The lake! _

The ‘lake’ in question is actually in a large sinkhole in the ground. Taeyong ends up on the edge of the bank, looking down at the water. Sure enough, there is a pale hand barely visible above the waves. A face surfaces for a split second. His hair is matted and stringy, clinging to his face. His lips are flushed blue and his skin is tinged with grey, veins clearly visible beneath the skin.

“_Jaehyun!” _Taeyong howls, already climbing over the edge.

Back at the campsite, Jisung screams, having just woken up. “Chenle is missing!”

Taeyong crumbles. He knows he’s wasting precious time, but he can’t help but look to where Jisung is pointing. There is nothing for a few moments, the water still and undisturbed. Suddenly, Taeyong catches a flash of lavender purple hair as Chenle struggles to take a breath. It looks like something is dragging him downwards.

Both go still, the water smoothing out to a deadly calmness. Taeyong is stunned, still hanging over the lip of the lake. He doesn’t know who to jump towards-- he can’t lose either of them! Not Jaehyun, his anchor, the love of his life. Not Chenle either, his sweet baby, the one he promised to save.

Taeyong pants, bracing himself against the side of the drop off overlooking the lake. “Jisung!” He screams back to the campsite, aware that the boy is awake, “Wake everyone else up!”

Without wasting more time, he pushes off and dives headfirst into the lake. Instantly, he feels nothing but the freezing cold. The cloudy water and darkness of night obscure his vision on all sides, making it impossible to see where he’s swimming. From the corner of his eye, he spots a leg thrashing in the scummy water, white foam bubbling up on the surface from the struggling.

_ Please don’t take them from me. _

_ SAVE JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 36](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745126) _

_ SAVE CHENLE? _

_ [→ Chapter 11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744610) _

_ SAVE BOTH? _

_ [→ Chapter 25](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744832#workskin) _


	19. nineteen.

_ FOLLOW FOOTSTEPS _

_ → Selected! _

Once again, the entire group takes off. Taeyong groans, following them into the dark woods.

“Let this go on record,” he complains to Jaehyun as they move through the thick paths, “that I think this is a very bad idea.” Jaehyun smiles sadly at him, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“They’re right, though. We can’t leave anyone behind.” Jaehyun, slightly ahead of him, moves an offending branch out of the way. He pauses for a moment, contemplating, and then pretends to snap the branch back at Taeyong. Taeyong release a weak little laugh, batting at Jaehyun’s hand. It’s not much, but it’s the first time he’s stopped crying since they found Lucas.

“We’ll get through this.” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong believes him. Together, with the rest of the boys, they could get through anything.

Ten is walking a few paces in front of them. Taeyong jogs to catch up with him a bit, looping an arm around his. “How are you holding up?”

Ten shakes his jet black hair out of his face. “...About as well as anyone could.” he answers shortly, not meeting Taeyong’s eyes. Taeyong softens; Ten is clearly very worried for their two missing members. He’s close to them both.

“We’ll find them.” Taeyong whispers. He doesn’t know why he’s making promises he doesn’t know he can keep.

“At this point, I’m not worried about finding them. I’m worried about _ what _ we’ll find.” Ten starts, but is cut off with a bright flash of light. “Ow, Jaehyun, what the fuck!”

Jaehyun lowers his phone, which still has the camera application opened. “Sorry…”

“This is not the time to be taking goddamn contact photos, Jae.” 

“I’m trying to get clear photos of people so if anyone else goes missing we have recent photos to give to the police when we can contact them. It makes a huge difference just knowing the color shirt you’re wearing.” Jaehyun bites his lip, probably feeling guilty about assuming the worst, but Taeyong appreciates the attempt at foresight.

God knows he wishes he had had some of that.

“Do you want to take a picture of me now?” Taeyong offers himself up. “Get my good side.” 

“No, I know what you look like already. I always know.” Jaehyun says, but his words are stilted and awkward, like he’s fighting to get the words out of his mouth. He looks a little ill.

Taeyong lays a hand on his arm, about to ask him what’s wrong, when he hears a commotion from up ahead. 

Someone in the front of the group has stopped short, about twenty minutes into following the footsteps. Oddly enough, the footsteps weren’t fading even as the trail stretched on and on. They were still the same deep, vibrant red. The rest of the group slams into each other.

“Ow!” Chenle says, rubbing his shoulder, “What’s the matter?”

“The footsteps split up.” Ten points at the path. Indeed, one set of footsteps veer off into the thickest parts of the brush, while the others wind around, doubling back a few times before heading up a small, rocky incline. Both lead out of sight.

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do?” Yuta grinds his teeth. “If we just follow one of them, who knows if we’re ever going to get back on the trail and find the other one. We can’t risk that! And we have no way of knowing which one belongs to who, who’s still hurt, who’s…” he rubs a hand over his eyes. “This is such a mess.”

“What if...what if we split up?” asks Donghyuck, staring into the woods surrounding them. “We pick here as a meeting point, search for like half an hour, and strictly follow the trails. If we don’t find them before time is up, we follow the footsteps right back and it should lead us here, right?”

Mark looks uneasy. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea, but it increases our chances of finding Taeil and Johnny faster, and time is really our greatest enemy right now. Maybe you’re right.”

“Words I thought I’d never hear.” Donghyuck halfheartedly tries to jab, but the tear tracks still shining on his cheeks prevent anyone from laughing.

Ultimately, the group resorts to Taeyong to make the final call. He dreads it. He doesn’t want to be responsible for a decision that could lead his boys to death. “Donghyuck has a point.” He says after a long stretch of silence. “We need to find them, and time isn’t on our side. We’ll split into two groups, and I want you to turn back and come back here at _ any _ sign of danger. And you never, _ never _, go anywhere by yourself. Do you hear me?” The group nods.

Perhaps this is a reckless decision, but they’re being reckless enough just by coming into these woods. And as long as Taeyong can recover his missing boys, anything is worth it.

He sends Ten,Yuta, Kun, Renjun, Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno, lead by Jaehyun, onto the slightly inclined path. He keeps Jungwoo, Jisung, Chenle, Sicheng, Doyoung, and Mark with him.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Jaehyun asks before they split off.

“Yeah. I trust you, I trust them, I trust all of us to get in and out of here safely. We can do this.” Taeyong says. He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring Jaehyun or himself. Jaehyun gives him a firm nod and a kiss on the cheek, before melting into the darkness with the rest of his group flanking him. Taeyong takes a deep breath and faces the thick bushes where their path leads.

“Let’s go, kiddos.”

The woods in these parts are incredibly difficult to navigate. Sometimes they would lose the trail of footprints, obscured by leaves or thick, low hanging branches trailing on the ground. Eerily enough, they don’t see a single animal throughout the journey. The woods is silent, save for the crunch of their feet as they move through it, long shadows cast under the moonlight. Taeyong gets the chills as they come to an even denser part. The footsteps disappear underneath a huge bush, so thick no one can see the other side, and taller than all of them.

“We have to go through.” says Doyoung. “There’s no other way around it, and even if there was we can’t afford to lose the trail.”

Taeyong, naturally, goes first. He wades into the bush, leaves and branches snagging on him at every move. He’s pretty sure a thorn tears through his shirt, brambles collecting in his hair, but he makes it to the other side by some miracle.

It must be a pretty shitty miracle though, because the trail of footsteps has disappeared once he’s spit out into the clearing beyond the bushes. He scans the area. There’s no sign of his group.

“Well, fuck, Taeyong. You broke the number one rule.” He tries to laugh it off to himself to preserve his sanity. “You’re alone.”

He wanders around the clearing for a few moments, hoping to god that his boys just got stuck in the bush and will meet him soon. It was tough for him, but maybe even tougher for them, or maybe someone got caught and is injured, maybe they turned back, maybe they--

Taeyong pauses, squinting. There’s a dark shape moving in the distance, completely across from where he exited the bush.

“Who is that?” His heart leaps into his throat. Taeil? Johnny? Could he be that lucky that they’re okay, or at least one of them is?

The figure is coming towards him, features still too dark to see, but small, lithe frame visible against the dark night. Could it be Taeil, then? Taeyong takes a step closer. “Taeil...?” He ventures nervously, trying not to get his hopes up.

The figure lopes into the clearing, gait unsteady. It lands heavily on each step, body jerking back and forth, shoulders dropped low and arms dangling limply at its sides. It stops near the edge of the clearing, but not before a final step sends a shockwave through its body, causing its hair to flip up out of its face.

“Ten…? What?” Taeyong furiously looks back and forth between Ten and the bush. “Where did you come from? How did you get here? And where’s the rest of the group?”

Ten is unresponsive for a few moments, standing there with his shoulders shaking violently. His skin is pale and sickly, eyes shot red and hair dishevelled. “Hey, Tae.” He squeezes out after a silence, sounding like every word is an effort. His voice is choked off and strained. He lumbers closer. “I need…” His hands come up to his head, grabbing fistfuls of hair and pulling as he grunts, “I need _ help! _ I can’t-- He’s--He-- _ ” _Ten wheezes with every step forward. Taeyong moves to meet him halfway, concern for his friend overtaking his terror and confusion.

“Ten, what…”

“Don’t let--” Ten gasps, eyes wide. “Don’t--”

Ten is cut off by the sound of pounding of feet against the forest floor, twigs snapping and branches flung all over the place. Jaehyun bursts out of the trees, looking frantic and breathing heavily.

“_Taeyong! _” He screeches, throwing himself at the pair in the center of the clearing. 

“Jaehyun, what?!” It isn’t until Jaehyun is almost upon him that Taeyong notices the huge, sharpened rock in Jaehyun’s hand. He shoves Taeyong back, and tackles Ten to the ground. Taeyong is thrown backwards, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He sits up and he sees Jaehyun straddling Ten, raising the makeshift weapon in the air.

_ STOP JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744622) _

_ TRUST JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 40](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745168) _


	20. twenty.

_ HELP DOYOUNG _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

  


_ BACK. _

_ [→ Chapter 29](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744931) _

  
  
  
  



	21. twenty-one.

_ END IT _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

_ BACK. _

_ [→ Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744373) _


	22. twenty-two.

_ TRUST LUCAS _

_ → Selected! _

“L-Lucas…” Taeyong watches in horror as blood begins to drip from where Lucas’s fingernails are digging into his skill. His stomach churns. Can they trust Lucas? The decision is up to him, and he has to make it soon.

Lucas’s eyes land on him once more before his gaze turns to the muddy ground, eyes squeezed shut as tears slide down his cheeks. It was only for a split second, but Taeyong caught something genuine flashing in those tortured eyes. He can feel the resolve solidifying in his heart, pulse racing as he steps forward.

They’re brothers. They’re _ family. _ Whatever happens, they can work through it as long as they’re together. That’s how it’s always been throughout the years-- that’s how Taeyong has kept the peace. Trust, honesty, and communication. Always.

Taeyong clenches his fist.

_ He has to trust him. _

“Lucas!” Taeyong jolts forward, enveloping the wailing boy into a hug. He coaxes Lucas’s shaking fists away from his scraped up head, shushing him gently as he runs his hands up and down Lucas’s heaving back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Taeyong mumbles, cheek squished up against Lucas’s ratty sweatshirt as he rocks him back and forth, “I believe you. We believe you. It’ll be okay.” He continues to whisper sweet nothings into Lucas’s ear until the boy finally calms down, his shuddering breaths slowly evening out.

“Y-You really believe me?” Lucas whimpers, eyes shining with both hope and disbelief. Taeyong’s gaze shifts to slightly over Lucas’s shoulder, where Yuta is scowling down at them.

“Yes.” Taeyong breathes. “We do.”

“Oh, thank god.” Lucas bows his head again, shoulders quivering as tears trickle down his face. “Thank you, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” 

Yuta scoffs and turns on his heel, making his way towards the rest of the group. Taeyong nods at Jaehyun, who gives him a small, approving smile before tailing Yuta, presumably to make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.

God, what would Taeyong do without Jaehyun?

_ What now? _ Taeyong asks himself, gently stroking Lucas’s matted hair. “Xuxi...can you tell me what happened?”

“I-I don’t remember.” He sniffs, breath quickening again. “I know that s-sounds really suspicious, I know, but I didn’t do it! I know I didn’t!”

“That’s okay!” Taeyong is quick to reassure him, not wanting another breakdown on their hands. “I know that. Please, just tell me what you know.”

Lucas nods a few times, steeling himself. “Well, I remember getting on the ride with R-Renjun, but at some point I started to feel really sick. I thought I was just motion sick, but I...you won’t believe me.” He bites his lip, one finger tracing patterns in the dirt.

Taeyong laughs lightly, trying to put the boy at ease. “Try me.”

Lucas doesn’t move. “It felt like there was someone in my head.”

“Someone...in your head?”

The finger stops abruptly. 

“Yeah. I felt...not myself. That’s the last thing I remember, until I heard screaming and was blinded by Chenle’s phone flashlight. I looked down and I saw...that.” Lucas nods towards the scene.

Taeyong winces. “That’s all you remember? Lucas, that’s...not good…” 

Lucas doesn’t remember anything from the incident. He doesn’t have an alibi, he doesn’t have any evidence that clears his name, and his fingerprints are all over the knife. Not only that, but the whole park is deserted. Who could’ve done this, if not Lucas? Could he really lose control enough to commit murder?

Is trusting him a mistake?

_ No! _ Taeyong chastises himself. _ I can’t turn my back on him now. He needs me. They all need me. _

The knife glints in the fading daylight.

_ I chose to trust him. I have to trust him. I know Lucas, and Lucas is not a bad person. _

The tears sliding off his fingertips are tinged red with blood.

_ This wasn’t his fault. _

“I know!” Lucas sobs into his sleeve, panicking. “I know! It looks so bad! I look so guilty, if I was you I wouldn’t believe me either!” He begins to hyperventilate again, fingers scrabbling at his knees as he struggles to breathe. “Oh my god! Oh my god, what if I did it! I w-wouldn’t have, I would never! But I can’t-- can’t-- can’t _ remember _ so who am I to say I’m innocent?! I can’t-- I can’t remember--” He scrubs the heel of his hands against his jeans, rubbing furiously to rid himself of blood.

“B-Be careful, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Taeyong shouts, but Lucas can’t seem to hear him, muttering hysterically as he tears at the skin on his hands. Suddenly, a hand shoots out of nowhere, clasping Lucas’s wrist and stilling his obsessive motions. Lucas freezes, slowly meeting the eyes of the person rubbing soft circles into his bloodied skin.

_ Jungwoo. _

“I believe you.” He says simply, thumbing gently at Lucas’s face. A soft smile rests on his face. 

“Y-You do?” Lucas’s eyes are wide, a desperate hope glimmering behind them.

Jungwoo sighs fondly. “Xuxi, we’ve been together for how long now? I know what you look like when you lie-- like when you tell me you didn’t use my special shampoo even when I can smell it on you, or when you claim to not know who put plastic spiders in my shoes on April Fool’s day. You’re telling the truth. I-I don’t know what happened, but I know it isn’t your fault.”

He cups Lucas’s flushed face with both hands. “I know you better than you know yourself. So if you don’t trust yourself...” A tear traces down Jungwoo’s cheek, his bottom lip trembling with emotion. 

“_Then trust me_.”

Lucas exhales softly, nodding once as he grips Jungwoo’s hands tightly. The air between them is charged with a tenderness Taeyong couldn’t begin to understand. 

His eyes slide over to the rest of the group. He should probably break this up and get the group back on track. He still has to convince everyone else to trust Lucas-- somehow. They have to figure out what happened, or call the police, or find an employee, or _ something _. If Lucas didn’t do this, then someone else did. As long as that person is on the loose, they’re in danger.

His family is in _ danger. _

However, Jungwoo doesn’t give Taeyong time to intervene. He turns swiftly to snatch his water bottle out of his backpack, furiously unscrewing the lid. 

“Baby, what--” Lucas can barely speak before Jungwoo starts pouring capfuls of cool water over Lucas’s raw, bloodstained hands, gently dabbing at them with the hem of his shirt. Stunned, he lets Jungwoo wipe the blood off for a few minutes before protesting weakly, voice thick. “Baby, y-you’re gonna get it all over your shirt...”

Jungwoo blows air through his nose, shooting him a withering look that looks out of place on his delicate features. “You think I care? You can buy me a new one when we’re out of this mess.”

Lucas’s lip wobbles as he nods, falling silent. Taeyong takes this as his opportunity to leave, trusting Jungwoo to handle his boyfriend.

Bones creaking, he gets up and brushes himself off, making his way back to the group clustered over by the tables. Jaehyun seems to have done a good job of keeping them out of sight of the crime scene.

“What’s going on?” Ten grills him the minute he comes within earshot.

Taeyong wrings at his hands nervously. “He’s innocent.” His mouth open and closes a few times, but he nothing else to offer. They have no evidence, after all.

Taeil’s eyes bug out of his head, jaw dropping. “He’s innocent? What do you mean he’s innocent? There’s blood on his hands! He was holding a _ knife_!”

“Taeil, please.” Taeyong rubs at his forehead with a sigh. “All of you, please just trust us. Trust me.” He pleads.

“Absolutely not.” Ten digs in his heels. “He’s dangerous to be around!”

Taeyong steals a glance towards Lucas, Jungwoo still crouched by his side. They don’t have much time to waste, if there really is a killer on the loose.

Lucas _ was _ holding the knife, though. Sure, it was pointed to his own chest, but he was covered in blood that wasn’t his. Is he putting the rest of his family in danger by keeping Lucas around them?

Did he make a mistake?

Taeyong shakes his head sharply to clear himself his doubt. He chose to trust Jungwoo, to trust Lucas, and now he has to stick with that decision.

“No, he’s not.” Taeyong says firmly, not leaving any room for argument. “And I don’t want to hear any more on the matter. We have to look forward now-- does anyone have internet connection? We should call the police.” Frowning, he pokes at his phone. “Mine won’t turn on…”

The rest of the group grumbles as they pull out their phones, tapping at the screens relentlessly.

“I have no service, but it turns on.” Renjun ventures, turning the screen to show the others. Taeyong smiles vaguely at the boy’s lockscreen-- it’s from when Sicheng took him and Chenle out for popsicles, grinning at the camera with sticky fingers thrown up in peace signs. Renjun flinches as a flash of light goes off, and the device abruptly turns black. “Um...never mind.”

“Anyone else?” Taeyong calls desperately, but it seems to be the same across the board. “Okay, no one panic. There’s poor service here, and our phones probably just died from being used all day.”

“There’s _ eighteen _ of us, Taeyong, and our phones are _ smoking_.” Yuta snarls with a sharp tongue, making anger flare up in Taeyong’s stomach.

Begrudgingly, he looks closer at his own phone. Yuta is right. A smudge of smoke curls up from the corner of the device. It’s hot to the touch.

“There should be an emergency phone in some staff room, or we can just leave and call for help once we’re back home.” Taeyong insists, fist tightening by his side. He won’t be dragged down by anyone’s despair. He has to keep a clear head, stay strong for the sake of the group.

“We can’t leave.”

“_Huh_?” Taeyong whips to where Jaehyun is standing with his head bowed. His shoulders are shaking and he can’t meet Taeyong’s eyes.

“I figured we should make an escape plan in case things went...south, with Lucas.” Jaehyun tips his chin up, watery eyes boring into Taeyong. Something uneasy twists in Taeyong’s stomach. “I sent Johnny and Doyoung to check out the front gates.”

“You didn’t tell me?” Taeyong can’t put a finger on why that upsets him so much.

Jaehyun purses his lips. “You were busy. I stayed here to look after everyone like you asked, so I had two of our most responsible older members to scope out the scene. I was just thinking ahead.”

Taeyong deflates. That makes total sense. “Of course, of course. Thanks, Jae. I can always count on you.” He smiles warmly at the boy, grabbing his hand, but quickly drops it as he remembers his words.

“Johnny, Doie, why can’t we leave? What did you see?”

Both of them are hanging around the outskirts of the group, staring at the ground. Their skin looks pale, veins green and sickly looking. Doyoung looks worse than Johnny, but he seems to be collecting himself quicker.

“There are gates. There are huge, huge gates that we can’t-- _ trust us_, we can’t get over. They’re locked tight and we had no idea how to get them open. The tops looked dangerous and jagged, I don’t know if we’d want to climb them even if we had the means to.” Doyoung fights back tears, voice thick as he continues. “We saw...we saw…”

“We saw blood.” Johnny finishes, knuckles whitening. “Just beyond the parking lot, all the cars were smashed in, glass shattered everywhere. There was...blood on the ground. Doyoung and I got these huge headaches when we were out there, and our vision started to get spotty and blurry, making us lightheaded. I don’t know if there was something in the air or-- or something was set off in the parking lot, but we shouldn’t go back there. Please, we need to find another way out.”

Taeyong bites his lip. “You’re...you’re sure about this?” Johnny and Doyoung nod fiercely.

_ Trust, honesty, and communication. Always. _

“Don’t you trust us?” Jaehyun pleads, genuine fear flashing in his eyes. “They were so scared when they came back, I really think it’s dangerous out there. We don’t know who-- or _ what _\-- is waiting beyond those gates. We need to think harder.”

_ He has to trust him. _

Taeyong is not a fan of making decisions without seeing the whole situation with his own two eyes. However, these are two of his most trusted boys. Perhaps it’s okay to let them be his eyes for once.

“How about we go to the Ferris wheel?” Donghyuck speaks up. He’s clinging onto Taeil’s arm, the older boy allowing him for once. Jeno has the park map open, scanning it. He’s got it upside down-- Jaemin quickly rights it for him.

“Duckie, this is no time for rides. We need to plan.” Taeyong chastises him, but Donghyuck makes a frustrated little noise in the back of his throat.

“No, I’m not that stupid, I’m _ giving _ you a plan.” Donghyuck’s face sours. “I’m saying we need to look for high ground. Johnny and Doyoungie say that the front gates aren’t safe, and this park is really big. We’ve never been here before, we don’t know anything about alternate exists or sketchy places to avoid or _ anything _. If we find a way to the top of the Ferris wheel, we’ll be able to see the whole park.”

“If there’s any way out, we’ll see it from there.” Mark completes the sentence, ruffling Donghyuck’s hair. “That’s a good idea.”

Something feels off. Taeyong’s trying to chalk it up to him simply not being able to relinquish control over a situation, but he can’t help but worry that it’s more than that. 

He trusted Lucas. He still doesn’t know whether that was correct or not, but he made a leap of faith and no one has died yet.

He should trust the rest of his family...right?

_ FIND THE FERRIS WHEEL? _

_ [→ Chapter 29](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744931) _

  
  
  



	23. twenty-three.

_ ACCUSE YUTA _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)


	24. twenty-four.

_ INVESTIGATE _

_ → Good choice, Taeyong _

Taeyong braces himself against the plastic arch of the entrance to the area, panting. The horrifying clown eyes drawn above the opening to the funhouse glare down at him. Muscles clenching painfully, he takes the first few steps towards the awning, fingers curled into fists by his sides.

Someone he loves is in there.

The funhouse has no real door. Instead, the entryway is swallowed up by two huge inflatable bubbles of plastic, similar to a bouncy house. The obstacle is much taller than Taeyong, and he can’t judge the depth of it.

Liquid anxiety churning in his stomach, Taeyong starts to push through the flaps. They seem to expand on him as he shoulders through, the rustling of plastic all around him disorienting him, the rush of air being pumped through the things whistling in his ears. He drags himself along the passageway for a few more minutes, senses completely obscured, before it spits him out into a small room.

Taeyong dusts himself off, opening his eyes to find himself in a pitch black room, a few neon spiderwebs providing the only dim light. They flash occasionally, but other than that Taeyong is lost. Hands stuck protectively in front of him, Taeyong starts to feel his way around the room.

Heart pounding, his hands brush a hard, hairy lump. He pulls his hands back with a sharp gasp, only to realize that it’s a plastic spider once he reaches out again.

“Pull it together, Taeyong.” He scolds himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He bumps up against what must be the wall, clinging to it gratefully as he slowly moves across the room. The door must be here, somewhere. It must be.

Throughout his path, he keeps stumbling upon different concerning items. It’s like one of those reach into the box and try to identify what you’re touching games, but he’s _ living _ in it and he can’t get out.

His shaking fingertips knock into what feels like a hand, but it slips from his grasp. 

“H-Hello?” Taeyong croaks, lunging after the limb. No matter how much he flails around in the dark, he can’t feel it again. He can’t feel anything; estranged from the wall, he might as well just be floating around in empty space.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” He demands to the void, but no one answers. He stumbles backwards, the small of his back pressing into what feels like a doorknob. He grabs the cool metal with quivering fingers just as the spiderwebs light up one last time, a thin silhouette framed against the glow, watching him from the other side of the room.

_ Better hurry_, Taeil frowns as Taeyong wrenches the door open, falling into the next room and slamming the door behind him. 

He shoves his shoulder against the flimsy door, hoping to keep whatever was in that room contained. When he backs up, he’s horrified to see himself staring back from the other side of the door. 

Knees weak, Taeyong turns to find himself trapped in a hall of mirrors.

“This isn’t so bad.” He whispers to himself, fingertip brushing along his reflection’s cheekbones. “At least I can see.”

It’s also the first time Taeyong’s caught a glimpse of himself since they left. He looks like he’s aged several years in one night, dark bags pulling at the skin under his eyes, wrinkles marring his forehead. His eyes are swollen and puffy from crying, bloodshot and haunted looking. His hair is tangled and slick with sweat, his veins standing out against his skin.

He turns his hand over, palm facing up. His heart sinks. There’s blood all over it, and he can’t tell what’s fresh and what’s dried anymore.

Taeyong spins on his heel, only to be met with more sad eyes peering at him. He places a hand over his chest to calm his startled heart. Of course. This is a maze of mirrors, he’s not going to be able to escape his gloomy reflection.

He could swear it took the reflection just half a second too long to place his hand on his heart.

Forward.

Taeyong decides on a similar approach as the last room, hands splayed against each mirror as he moves through the paths, eyes firmly trained on his feet to watch the floorboards. He might be able to tell where the dead ends are based on where the mirrors begin and end. Some of them are regular mirrors, some distorted. 

The regular ones aren’t any more of a relief. Honestly, they may even be scarier than the mirrors that stretch his figure out like taffy into a looming, imposing shape, or squish him into a tiny, preyable, pathetic animal.

Forward.

He winds himself into his third lengthy dead end, sighing as he bumps up against the mirror blocking his path. He raises his chin, face twisting in annoyance at his reflection. He isn’t even sure what he’s chasing anymore.

“You again.” Taeyong pokes at it with a sigh. It snarls back at him.

Footsteps echo on the thin wood somewhere behind him. Taeyong whips around immediately, eyes searching the thin passageway. Only his dead eyes stare back, but he can see a shape move in his peripherals. When he turns back, he isn’t alone in the mirror.

“_TAEYONG!” _

Chenle is slumped on the ground next to him, head rolling limply. His cheek is bloody and bruised, his skull a dented around his forehead. His eyes are still open, his chest unmoving.

“L-Lele!” Taeyong cries, falling to one knee in front of the mirror. With wide eyes he pats at the ground next to him, but there’s no one there except Chenle’s beloved keychain, splattered with blood. Taeyong pockets it without a second thought, heart hammering in his chest.

He has to find Chenle. He has to give it back.

Taeyong looks up, and Chenle’s glassy eyes stare back. He presses a filthy palm to the mirror, lovingly caressing Chenle’s cheek.

“Where are you, baby?” He chokes, spinning in dizzy circles. Chenle’s eyes seem to track him everywhere he looks, but he can’t find where the origin of the reflection lies.

It could be from anywhere in the room.

Taeyong steals a last glance at the mirror in his way, his bloody fingerprint staining the glass, before he stumbles back the way he came. Chenle’s body is all he can see, his vision tunneling.

_ I failed. _

He hears glass splintering from the other side of the room, presumably near the exit. “_Lele!” _ He screams, throat raw and torn.

He throws himself down another fork in the path, but he can’t see Chenle anymore. It’s only his own reflection tsking at him from the mirror realm.

“Where did you go?!” Taeyong mumbles hoarsely, legs trembling as they carry him further down the path. He can’t see. He can’t see anything. “Where did you _ go?” _

It’s another dead end, but there are three faces frowning at him now. Ten is swaying behind them, ugly red handprints around his neck, skin purpled and lips stained blue. Taeyong sobs as he slams himself into the mirror again and again, bruises flowering on his forehead. “_ Where are you! Where are you!” _

He retraces his steps again, tears blurring his vision as he quickens his pace. He can’t see. He can’t see. It’s Johnny boring holes into him now.

Forward, and back.

_ Better hurry, Taeyong. _ Jaemin taunts him, clutching Chenle’s limp hand. _ Hurry before it’s too late. _

“I’m trying!” Taeyong wails, punching at the mirror blocking his path. Chenle is standing now, propped up by Ten. Someone must be behind them, holding them up to a mirror in Taeyong’s sight. “Please, I’m trying!”

Back, back, back.

Ten clicks his tongue sadly. _ You’re too late, can’t you see? _

Back! Back!

Taeyong trips on himself as he changes directions again, pinballing against the sides of the mirrors as he sprints through the short paths. He can feel someone following him, the heavy footsteps sounding like they’re right behind him, then in front, then behind.

He can’t see. He can’t hear. He can’t feel.

Turn back!

Taeyong comes face to face with a shattered mirror. Cracks web through it, with shards of glass raining to the ground in front of it. Taeyong stops to catch his breath, blood rushing in his ears. There’s a bead of blood caught on one of the jagged edges, right where his left eye should be.

Breathless, Taeyong reaches out for it, mesmerized by how it glimmers in the fading light, how the splintered mirror distorts his face. 

A dark shape moves in behind him. Taeyong’s terrified eyes track it slowly, scanning from the bottom up. He can’t move. He can’t see. He can’t breathe.

The figure is shrouded in darkness. The only thing in focus is the blood drenched pocket knife in his hand.

_ His eyes are dull, not a trace of life to be seen. The pocket knife slips gently out of his blood slicked hands. _

“Lucas?” Taeyong breathes, eyes landing where the figure’s head should be. Instead of a face, he’s met with the epicenter of the crack, a chunk dug out from where the mouth should be, cracks spiraling in circles all around it until whatever is in front is utterly obscured. 

Taeyong swears he can still see the red eyes wink, the knife flash as he whirls around. “_Leave us alone!” _He shrieks, fists pounding relentlessly on the mirrors in front of him.

The figure is gone, footsteps coming from what sounds like the other side of the mirror. Overcome with a red hot rage like one he’s never felt, Taeyong slams his whole body into the mirror, feeling the already weak frame give way under his desperate hits. He can’t even feel the sharp pieces of glass embed themselves in his shoulder, can’t feel the slices up his neck or the pinpricks of blood welling up on his hands, knuckles purpling and skin splitting. Taeyong falls through the frame to find himself at the end of the maze with no prize to be found. 

He’s alone, but the door in front of him is swinging wide open.

Taeyong crawls on his hands and knees towards it, choking on his sobs. His family is dead. His family is dead and he wasn’t able to do anything about it. He bites his tongue, thinking about the vulnerable brothers he foolishly left behind at the lodge. He prays that they’re okay.

He knows they’re probably not.

The door leads to a cramped stairwell, the stairs slick and rubbery. Taeyong can’t tell if the steps are slippery by design, or coated with something else. He refuses to look down and find out.

He pauses for a moment as a wheezy giggle floats down to him, his vision darkening as a stone is dropped into his stomach. His heart nearly gives out right then and there. “Jae?!” He muffles his sobs with his hand, dry heaving on the stairs. “T-Tennie?”

He can’t breathe. It feels like all of his members’ voices are swirling around him, laughing and screaming and crying and pleading with him and _ why didn’t you save us Taeyong why didn’t you help us Taeyong you promised you promised you promised-- _

Taeyong screams.

The next room is tiny, the walls crushing in on him. He presses his palms flat against the spongey walls, waiting for a moment. They actually do feel like they’re moving. He shakes it off, stepping further into the room on jelly legs.

He’s going to find who’s hurting them. The determination hardens in his veins. He’s going to find them, and he’s going to kill them.

The room is filled with more of that bouncy house type material, this time in tubes spanning from the floor up to the ceiling. They look like those funny mascots outside of car dealerships, the ones that rise and fall and flop around like strange little dancers.

Taeyong cries as he stumbles towards Ten’s body, strung up between two of the inflatable tubes. 

He always did love to dance.

Ten’s limp body jerks this way and that, following the flow of the tubes he’s tied to. Taeyong’s hands are shaking as he tries to free the boy from his confines. He can’t do it. He doubles over, body convulsing. “Fuck! _ Fuck!” _

The wood flooring behind him, on the platform to the stairwell, creaks menacingly.

Taeyong slides to the bouncy floor, the rubber burning his kneecaps as he scrambles towards the other side of the room. “I’m sorry, Ten!” He gasps as he pulls himself onto the next platform. He can’t tell if he’s running or chasing anymore. “_I’m so fucking sorry!” _He launches himself through the next door, head turned back to monitor the stairwell.

He gets his answer as he lands on his stomach on a long rope bridge, ankle twisting in the tough material. The footsteps behind him grow louder. Taeyong wails as he tugs at his foot, any sense of sneakiness, of self preservation, evaporating into the sweat soaked air.

He looks down. The entire floor is one thin rope net, with holes easily large enough for a person to fall through. He’s staring down directly into the room below him. 

The hall of mirrors.

From this perspective, it’s easy to see Chenle’s body crumpled in the corner.

Taeyong screams louder as he frees his injured ankle from the rope, worming his way towards the end of the room. He doesn’t dare look back.

He hops up onto the platform with his leg bent to keep his left foot above the floor. Oh, god. It hurts to put weight on it, but he’s going to have to suck it up.

_ I will kill him. _ Taeyong vows. _ But I have to be alive to do it. _

Ten shrieks from the room behind him, making Taeyong falter. His nails dig into the soft wood of the door frame. The scream is cut off abruptly, dissolving into grotesque gurgles. Taeyong nearly throws up.

Ten was alive.

_ Ten was alive when Taeyong found him. _

Taeyong scrubs the tears from his face and sprints as best as he can into the next room, his ankle protesting with every step. Ten’s laughter trails him.

The next room is one huge tube. Taeyong staggers onto it, not expecting it to start moving. It seems to be one of those optical illusions with swirls painted all along the sides, disorienting the rider as it rotates.

Legs barely feeling like they can hold up his weight, Taeyong tries to run through the tube. He can’t tell if it’s his mind playing tricks on him, or if the tube really is moving faster and faster. He trips, falling onto his face as he loses purchase on the sloped floor. 

He’s running. He knows he’s running because he can hear the pounding of his feet against the plastic. He can feel the blood pumping through his veins, can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He knows he’s running, but when he looks up the exit is just as far away as it was when he started.

“Leave us alone!” He screams to no one, falling over himself as he sprints. “_Fucking leave us alone!” _

The brightly painted lines shoot past his vision, a headache building begin his eyes. He falls again, hard. This time he can’t regain his balance, resorting to crawling through the hellish tube.

Taeyong looks back to see a figure standing in the doorway. Gasping, he whips his head to the front. There’s another one standing in front of him. Or, is that way the back? Which way did he come from?

_ Better hurry, better hurry. _ They tease him, voices mixing together into a cacophony of moans and giggles and howls of pain.

He can’t tell down from up, left from right, real from fake. He can’t see. He can’t move. He can’t breathe oh god he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe it’s too much it’s too much--

The doorway is suddenly in front of him, clear of any obstructions. Taeyong hauls himself up and shoves his way into the fresh air.

He pants, greedily gulping in the fresh air. He’s made it out onto one of the second story balconies protruding from the side of the funhouse. There’s a single armchair facing the open air.

Someone’s waiting for him.

Convulsing with sobs, Taeyong spins the chair around. He has to know. He has to see.

He can’t see.

Taeyong wants to bash his head against the wall, wants to sleep and never wake up. None of them deserve this, but especially not… _ especially _not--

“Kun, baby…” Taeyong weeps, pressing Kun’s bloodied head to his chest. “No, no, baby!”

A growling echos from behind him, rising above the grating sound of the tube. Taeyong’s heart stops. He doesn’t have time to mourn. That must come later. Right now, he needs to get himself out of there alive so that he can avenge the rest of them.

Taeyong grips the railing in front of him as the growling gets louder and louder. It’s guttural and low, rumbling with a demonic tonic. Taeyong’s chest feels like it’s going to cave in as he hurls himself over the safety bar, toes tasting oblivion.

He doesn’t spare whatever is behind him a last glance as he lets himself fall from the edge, the wind hurling slurs past his ears.

He lands in a crumpled heap on the ground, but whatever thing was terrorizing him doesn’t follow. He lays there, unable to move as blackness encroaches on his vision. He allows the tears to slip freely, hiccuping through his sobs.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there in grief and pain, fighting unconsciousness with every last inch of his body. Jaehyun’s face floats in his vision, flanked by a few others. 

“How did you get here so fast…” Taeyong breathes weakly, eyes rolling back in his head as he lets himself go limp.

He comes to back to consciousness back in that damned lodge, in one of the smaller side rooms. Jaehyun is gripping his hand loosely, gasping when Taeyong squeezes back. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.” Jaehyun says but there’s no warmth to his voice. It sounds robotic, monotonous. Taeyong’s heart twists up in his chest. He can barely get the words out, but he has to know. He has to know. Was it his mind playing cruel tricks on him, or--

“Where’s Lele?” He croaks. 

Jaehyun doesn’t meet his eyes. “We found Chenle, Ten, and Kun on that balcony you jumped off of. They’re...I’m sorry. They’re gone.” He cuts himself off, a sob ripping from his throat. “They’re gone.”

Taeyong lets his throbbing head knock back into the wood floor. “Oh.”

_ I failed again. _

He doesn’t know who says it. He doesn’t know if he said it out loud. He doesn’t know if it was one of the spirits whispering poison into his ears. He doesn’t know. He can’t see.

He can’t see.

Yuta is pacing in front of him, fist shoved into his mouth to bite back his cries. He stops in front of Taeyong, looking devastated.

“I don’t get it, Taeyong…” He starts, looking lost. He wrenches his gaze away from the figure on the floor, returning to wearing holes in the ground.

Taeyong’s eyes flicker around the room. They’re all gathered there, in various states of disarray. White hot shame worms its way into the chambers of his heart. He caused this.

_ This is all my fault. _

He caused this.

_ I can’t fix this. _

They’re all looking at him funny, with varying degrees of distrust. Taeyong feels the nerves flutter around his stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Mark steps up to the plate, looking stressed. He’s got Donghyuck’s hand in a death grip. “Taeyongie...how is that it’s always you that finds them?”

Taeyong sits straight up, his head swimming with the sudden movements. “Wh-What do you mean?”

Mark shrinks back, unable to continue as he hides his tear stained face in Renjun’s shoulder. He relinquishes the stand to Yuta, who looks incredibly pained. “You found Lucas.” His voice comes in breathy whimpers. “You-- You found Johnny, and Taeil, and Jaemin. You were with Jungwoo when he p-passed. You were the _ only _ one with Chenle, Kun, and Ten. It was you. It’s always _ you_. Don’t you think that’s a little...odd?”

Taeyong’s voice hardens. “What are you saying, Yuta?”

Doyoung picks up where Yuta left off, making Taeyong gasp in betrayal. “You, too, Doie?”

Doyoung doesn’t respond to the pet name. “We haven’t seen a single other soul since we got here. It’s just been us. Whoever is targeting us must be one of _us_\-- it’s the only way any of this makes sense. The...killer...must be in this room. And I’m sorry, Taeyong, but the evidence is stacking against you.” Doyoung can’t meet his eyes.

Taeyong feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him, unable to pull air into his lungs for a few seconds. “You guys think it’s me? You think _ I’m _ the m-murderer?!” His hands tangle in his knotted hair, eyes searching the room for someone who hasn’t turned on him, _ anyone_.

Desperately, he turns to Jaehyun. “You believe me, right Jae? R-Right?” He bawls, tears pouring down his cheeks. He would never. He could _ never _hurt them.

_ But you did. _ Chenle reminds him. _ You killed us. _

Jaehyun doesn’t look at him.

“Oh, god!” Taeyong hyperventilates, head in his hands. He can’t believe this. His precious family is turning on him, and he can’t even scrape together any evidence to prove them wrong. He thinks through the events of the past day or so. He doesn’t have anything to defend himself with.

“Please stop crying…” Jisung croaks, looking haunted. “P-Please!”

Chest heaving, Sicheng turns away from him, voice soft and agonized. “We think it’s best if you separated from us.”

“Y-You’re throwing me out?!” Taeyong shrieks, making everyone else in the room wince. He cringes, drawing back into himself.

Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe he’s putting them in danger by being around them. But perhaps leaving them is more dangerous...he could be offering them up to the wolves by abandoning them.

_ You killed us. _ Kun wails.

_ You’re killing them. _ Ten taunts.

Taeyong opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, unsure what to say.

_ LEAVE THE GROUP? _

_ [→ Chapter 42](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745192) _

_ CONVINCE THEM TO STAY _

_ [→ Chapter 35](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745099) _


	25. twenty-five.

_ SAVE BOTH _

_ → Selected! _

“_Chenle!” _ He swims towards the splashes, and manages to hook a hand onto Chenle’s leg, hands travelling up the boy’s weakening body until he finds his arms. Taeyong throws Chenle’s limp arms around his neck and tries to pull him alongside him back to the shore. He pauses to readjust Chenle, looking out despondently at the rest of the water. He can’t-- He can’t leave Jaehyun!

Taeyong sizes up the situation. Jaehyun is close enough that he can probably grab him as well, right? From Taeyong’s back, Chenle splutters. The weight of the boy, though mostly unconscious, drags Taeyong down so that his vision is almost completely swallowed up by the lake, water lapping over his chin and up towards his eyes. He tilts his chin up as far as he can without dislodging Chenle, paddling himself desperately towards Jaehyun.

With trembling hands, the chill setting in, Taeyong encircles a hand around Jaehyun’s wrist and gives him a sharp tug. He can’t fit both Jaehyun and Chenle on his back, so he’ll just have to try and pull Jaehyun with him. Somehow.

Taeyong is not weak by any means, but even this is too much for him.

Breathing labored, he slowly makes his way back to the shore. He can feel the frigid temperatures freezing his joints in their place, his breath fanning over his face. He squints. He desperately hopes these smudges against the shoreline are his members, waiting to take the bodies.

God. God, he prays that they’re more than just bodies.

_ Please don’t take them from me! _

Taeyong heaves Chenle off his back so that the two of them are dangling from his hands. He’s not going to make it all the way back to shore. Spots cloud his vision.

He can faintly make out Doyoung, and Sicheng rushing into the water. Yuta, Jungwoo, and Kun hold the kids back. Jisung won’t stop screaming.

With the last of his sapped strength, Taeyong places two feet flat against Jaehyun and Chenle’s backs, kicking off of them. He manages to push them far enough that one of the other boys can reach them before it’s too late, but Taeyong isn’t stupid. 

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

He’s thrown backwards, sinking below the choppy waters. He spies his two boys being carried out of the water, both coughing up water, and can only smile as his limbs go heavy. His whole body starts to feel light and airy.

“_Taeyong!” _

Someone screams for him from the shoreline. He can’t answer, water invading his mouth as he tries to speak. He chokes on it as it sears the back of his throat.

“_TAEYONG!” _

He thinks Doyoung and Sicheng come back to search for him. They dive and dive, but they can’t find him as Taeyong drifts closer to the bottom of the lake. He allows his eyes to slip closed as he realizes that they aren’t going to find him-- at least, not while he’s still alive.

He huffs out a little content laugh with his last breath. The bubbles that spew from his mouth reach the surface only just too late for Doyoung and Sicheng to see them and track him down. 

_ At least I saved my boys. _

Taeyong’s limbs go still, and everything goes black as he fades into the darkness.

**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 18](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744706) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	26. twenty-six.

_ TRY TO LEAVE _

_ → Selected! _

“I don’t care.” Taeyong chokes, turning away from Taeil’s body. “I don’t care if the murderer is back there, we are going to run as fast as we can back to the car and get _ out _ of here. We’ll call the police and have them handle the rest of it.” He links arms with the boys around him and starts to pull them through the woods again, desperately hoping he remembers the right path back.

After about twenty minutes, the woods spits them out back on the edge of the park, near one of the clown themed haunted houses. Taeyong shudders at the heavy gaze of one of the plastic clowns mounted above the sign for the attraction. There’s nothing but the sound of dragging feet as they make their way back to the parking area, jumping at every sound and checking every corner. They can’t afford to be careless.

Not only is the place completely and totally deserted, but it looks like there hasn’t been human activity for years. All the employee booths are shut tight, and there’s not a single actor or park attendee anywhere. They are alone, save for the shadows lurking in the corners and the light playing tricks on their eyes.

Eventually, they come to the front gates. Yuta steps forward to move back through the turnstiles at the end of the bag check line, but it doesn’t give way. It presses deep into his stomach, forcing a grunt out of him. “Ugh!” He groans, shoving at the piece of metal. “It won’t move!”

Sicheng moves to the next one, shaking at it furiously. He looks back up at them with a disappointed shake of his head. “It’s no use. They won’t budge.” 

“Can we climb over them?” Jisung suggests. Jisung, being able to contort his body in strange ways the rest of them will never understand, clambers over the machinery with relative ease. He saunters up to the front, but the gates of the park have closed. He jiggles the bars.

“It’s completely locked…” He mumbles, pulling at it a little harder. The gate stretches at least ten or twenty feel up in the air, and the bars are too close together to slip through or to use to climb. “We can’t get out!”

Taeyong vaults himself over the turnstiles, not wanting Jisung to be out there by himself.

“Parkour.” whispers Mark.

He jogs up next to the boy, putting his hand on the gate. It is well and truly stuck. He leans in close, positioning one eye in between the bars, trying to look out into the parking area.

There isn’t a single car out there.

“Where the fuck did everybody go…” He wonders aloud. “The park isn’t scheduled to close for another hour!” And what the fuck happened to their bus?

“T-Taeyong, is that--” Jisung starts, pointing to the very corner of the lot, the furthest away from the entrance. Taeyong follows his finger, dread swirling in his stomach at the thought of finding another body. What his eyes land on is no human corpse, however-- at least, he hopes there isn’t a body in there.

Their vehicle has been tipped onto its side, windows smashed and the front crumpled against a lamppost. It looks like someone _ tried _ to crash it. Fluffy stuffing from the bus seats is scattered around the area, and Taeyong can only imagine how badly the seats inside are torn up. He squints closer. Are those…

“Someone slashed our tires.” Taeyong voice cuts out with a cough. “They’re completely wrecked.”

He spins Jisung around and pushes the shocked boy back to the rest of the group.

“Well?” says Donghyuck. “What’s out there?”

Taeyong sighs. “So. Our car is totalled.” A collective gasp runs around the group. Taeyong lifts a hand to quiet them down. “I know, I know. I have no clue how that happened, but the thing is absolutely crushed. And our tires are slashed.”

“The chainsaw man…” Jungwoo rasps, eyes glassy and vacant. A chill runs down Taeyong’s spine. 

“Yeah. It’s possible.”

“Wait, wait.” Doyoung pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What was even the plan here? Who has the car keys?”

Taeyong’s world stops revolving in that moment.

“Johnny...”

A mangled hand, laying in the mud.

The group whirls to face him, wincing at the name. “What about h-him?” Renjun asks, unable to even say his name in grief.

A bloody key, resting in the outstretched hand.

“Johnny has the keys.”

Everyone loses their breath at those four words.

“Fuck.” utters Kun.

“C-can we go back and get them?” Chenle pipes up, voice wavering. “We...we can push the bus back up. Don’t we have spare tires somewhere? We can--” He sniffles, wiping snot from his nose. “We can still make it out of here! We don’t need windows or seats or whatever, we just need those keys to make that bus move a little bit...right?” His eyes are shining with tears, looking to his older brothers for reassurance, for guidance. “_Right _?” He begs, desperately looking for a way out.

Taeyong steps forward and draws the small boy to his chest. “Don’t worry, Lele.” He puts his chin on the boy’s shoulder and looks to Jaehyun, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He has no clue what to do.

“We should go back.” suggests Jaemin. Taeyong releases Chenle, putting all his focus on the willowy boy speaking.

“To where? Back to J...to J...Back to _ them_?” Mark gags on his words every time he tries to say their names.

“I don’t know.” Jaemin’s voice is uncharacteristically high. “I don’t _ know_. But it gives us somewhere to start, right? Looking for the keys? And even if we don’t...the woods would provide us more shelter and camouflage, right? We can hide from whoever did this?”

“That’s our smartie Nana.” Jeno says, running a fond hand through Jaemin’s hair. Renjun has Jaemin’s hand clasped tightly in his as he speaks.

“Nana is right. If we can’t get out this way, maybe we can cut through the woods and find a house, or a road, or _ any _ way out.”

Taeyong chews his lip. He truly wants nothing more than to never touch the woods ever again, but it’s shaping up to be their best option. He nods at the older dreamies, who sag into each other with a sigh. Chenle and Jisung are also wrapped tightly around each other.

He’s glad that in these terrifying times, some of them still have loved ones to rely on. He sneaks a grateful glance at Jaehyun, but Jaehyun has his arm around a still crying Jungwoo and Taeyong’s despair crashes into him again.

Sure _ Taeyong _ still has his anchor, but for how much longer?

_ STAY IN THE WOODS. _

_ [→ Chapter 18 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744706) _


	27. twenty-seven.

_ DESTROY THE PHONE _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong’s eyes rove around the area, taking in the sight of his boys. His poor, hurt, anguished boys who have been through hell and back and then through again so many times over. 

He sees the dreamies struggling to cling onto each other since they’re all they have left of their perfect little dream team. 

He sees Renjun, constantly at war with himself over Lucas and Chenle’s deaths, for which he particularly blames himself for not being able to prevent.

He sees Donghyuck aching for his fatherly figure Johnny, someone who can make him feel safe and secure and warm, like nothing will ever touch him again.

He sees Jeno long for the reassurance and familiar figure of Mark, someone who he’s grown up with and been through thick and thin together with, someone he always came to in times of trouble.

He sees Jaemin hurting for unity, for happiness and peace and love-- qualities that he so wholeheartedly believed in before this and qualities he’s losing his grip on each and every passing second. For a boy with so much love in his heart, the most draining thing is seeing his brothers harmed.

He sees Yuta struggling with the guilt of losing his best friends, his brothers, his family who have helped and guided him since day one.

He sees Doyoung trying to keep himself together for the sake of his little brothers who have come to depend on him in times of trouble.

He sees poor sweet Sicheng trying to deal with the loss of losing his mentors and his support systems, the people who build him up when he is down and grounds him when he’s too far away. 

He sees Jungwoo still grappling with grief over Lucas’s death. He knows the pair were headed towards marriage eventually. Taeyong was the one who helped push them together, encouraged each other to confess, provided a shoulder to cry on when they thought their love was unrequited. He sees Jungwoo utterly broken and can’t help but feel blame shift onto himself, like this, too, is his fault and his alone.

He sees Kun, strong Kun who has always been a parental figure towards them, especially towards the youngest pair. Kun who put up with everything they had to throw at him with a smile, Kun who took slightly barbed teases and jokes that went too far like they were nothing, always putting other people first. He sees Kun cracking, ripping apart at the seams as he’s unable to do anything to stop it as his precious family is picked off one by one.

He sees Jaehyun, tongue nearly bitten off and cuts marring his face, trying to resist the demon so he won’t hurt them any longer. He sees Jaehyun struggling to fight against it, all the choppy movements and outbursts and _ pain_, the anguish flashing through his eyes as he knows he’s responsible for the deaths of those nearest and dearest to his heart but he’s helpless to stop it, a prisoner in his own body watching sins being committed before his eyes.

He sees Mark, Taeil, Johnny, Ten, Lucas, Jisung, and Chenle sprinkled throughout the clearing. Their eyes are saddened, no longer glowing red. They look so disappointed in him.

_ Help us, Taeyong! _ They cry, translucent tears arcing down their cheeks. _ Help us, help them! _

_ You need to stop this, now! _

Taeyong draws in a shuddering breath.

_ This ends here. _

With a stuttering wail, he throws the phone to his feet and grinds his heel into it. The screen crunches underneath his foot but it isn’t enough.

It isn’t enough.

He feels the watchful gazes of their fallen burn into his neck as he screams and cries his apologies to the heavens, slamming the phone again and again against the nearest tree trunk.

It isn’t enough.

He nearly knocks Taeil in the head-- _ no it isn’t Taeil it can’t be Taeil-- _ Jaemin in the head as he swings his arms around, phone clutched tightly in his grip as he whacks it against a nearby rock.

_ Slam _ goes the phone against the rock.

_ Slam _goes the rock against Ten’s skull.

It isn’t enough.

Taeyong can feel Johnny tsk’ing from behind him as he pounds his fists into the ground, tears blurring his vision until he sees nothing but pale blue ghosts of his past and glowing, glowing red eyes.

_ Slam _ goes Taeyong’s bloodied fingers against the splintered bark.

_ Slam _goes the broken car keys into Johnny’s stomach.

He hears Lucas and Chenle giggling behind him but it quickly turns to wails as they advance on him. Chenle starts gurgling like he’s underwater, limbs ballooning and lips turning purple. Lucas just screams and screams and screams.

It isn’t enough.

_ Why didn’t you save us? _ Jisung stumbles towards him, soaked with blood and scummy lake water. _ Why didn’t you keep your promise? _

He whirls around and around, faces blending and swirling in his vision. They all stretch and pull like taffy, coalescing into one being until Mark is standing in front of him, a bloody hole pierced through his stomach and red dripping down from his lips, dripping down from his eyes.

_ I trusted you. _

“Taeyong! _ Taeyong! Stop it!” _ Someone catches his hands, wrangling them behind his back as Taeyong sobs to the heavens.

“_I tried! I tried to save you I swear I tried! I’m so sorry!” _

It isn’t _ enough. _

“_I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” _

Sicheng’s smooth hand runs down the side of Taeyong’s face as he shushes him lightly, Jaemin latching onto him from behind. Taeyong’s vision starts to melt away from the blue figures, the glowing reds, the sickly greens. Everyone in the clearing looks properly terrified and worried.

Taeyong shakily looks down at his outstretched palms, resting in his lap. They’re covered in blood and cuts, glass embedded in many of them. His gaze flickers to the ground. The phone is completely shattered, nothing more than a few crumbs of circuit boards and broken glass pounded into the dirt.

“It’s over.” Yuta heaves, cupping his hands under Taeyong’s chin and staring him in the eyes. “It’s _ over.” _

Taeyong moves from the remnants of the phone, to his hands, and back again before something finally connects in his brain and he takes off, only one thing in his mind as branches and leaves catch him in the face as he runs.

_ Jaehyun Jaehyun Jaehyun Jaehyun Jae-- _

He finally breaks into the clearing, presumably with his boys hot on his tail but he can’t tell, he can’t see because all he sees is _ Jaehyun _Jaehyun straining against the trunk, almost on his stomach if not for the hands behind his back forcing his chest up off the ground. His eyes are rolled back, dried blood flecking his lips all the way down to his collarbones.

“_Jaehyun!” _Taeyong knows it’s foolish but somewhere in his heart he can feel that things have changed. He unties Jaehyun’s bindings and darts back to catch the boy as he limply falls forward. Jaehyun’s chin lands on Taeyong’s shoulder and he brings a hand up to grip the boy’s hair, another hand pressing him to his chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

“What the _ fuck _ are you doing, Taeyong!” Doyoung wrenches Jaehyun away from him and holds Jaehyun at arms length, still understandably apprehensive.

“How do you feel, Jaehyun?” Donghyuck asks nervously, a tiny hand grabbing onto Jaehyun’s.

Jaehyun can’t speak, but they can all see the relief reflected in his eyes, the ease in the line of his body, the relaxation ebbing into his muscles. Grateful tears well up in his eyes as he lowers a shaking finger to the ground.

BET T ER

Taeyong wails and throws himself onto Jaehyun again, inhaling his scent and running hands all over his body to make sure that yes, this is real and _ yes, it’s over. _ After a few seconds he makes grabby hands at the rest of the members, needing to see and feel and hear all of his boys. They carefully join the hug puddle before a strained Doyoung kicks them all off so he can start tending to Jaehyun’s injuries. Taeyong watches absentmindedly as Doyoung splashes some water onto his jacket and starts dabbing at the blood encrusted on Jaehyun’s face. Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut in pain as Doyoung presses on his cheeks. Taeyong hugs the dreamies to his chest, tangles one hand in Jungwoo’s and the other in Kun’s, throws one leg over Sicheng and one over Yuta, watches Doyoung and Jaehyun with hawk eyes, and, well-- he doesn’t feel complete. He may never feel complete again, not without all of them, but for right now--

It might be enough.

“He’ll heal,” Doyoung tells him later as they resume their path through the woods. Doyoung tells him a lot of things, most of which Taeyong can’t quite absorb because holy _ shit, _ they’ve done it. Jaehyun still looks ill but all the odd behavior has disappeared. Doyoung says that Jaehyun had nearly bitten his tongue clean off, but it should be recoverable as long as they get him to an ambulance soon enough.

The rest of the journey passes in a blur for Taeyong. No more incidents happen. The first few hours were spent in a haze of constant tension, each step brought more fear and dread about what if it happens again, what if someone goes haywire what if Jaehyun breaks down again _ what if it isn’t over_, but it is. Their hellish fight is over.

Taeyong barely recognizes the hours stretch on as they walk. He doesn’t know how they reach a road, finally, after all that hardship. He doesn’t remember flagging down a car for help, doesn’t remember finally reaching the cell service needed to call emergency services.

(He vaguely remembers the sting of gravel in his knees as he collapses to the road and cries into it.)

All he can see is flashing reds and blues bouncing off the planes of Jaehyun’s face, skin shiny from sweat and tears and blood and grime and god knows what else but he’s _ beautiful. _

They all hold hands as the emergency vehicles approach, the worried old couple who pulled over for them standing off to the side. The paramedics ask them questions that they can’t answer.

They are alive, and it is enough.

_________________________

Jaehyun doesn’t remember most of it. The killings are all blacked out for him, all he felt is a loss of control, and then overwhelming guilt. He could piece it together what he did, but not the _ who _ or _ why _ or _ how _ or _ when _ or _ what the fuck. _

Healing does not happen in a day. It doesn’t happen in two days, or two months, or even twenty years. This will be something that stays with them all, especially Taeyong, _ especially Jaehyun_, for the rest of their lives.

Taeyong squeezes Jaehyun’s hand gently, then squeezes Jungwoo’s. Kun is entertaining the dreamies, letting them ‘help’ him cook some sweets for later. They like making their lost brother’s favorite desserts and leaving it on their graves. It’s become sort of a tradition. Doyoung is off to the side, talking tiredly into the phone. Doyoung and Jungwoo have set up different foundations and memorials to honor their brothers, like the dance scholarship they implemented for Jisung, or the tiny lion statue they built in Mark’s hometown. Sicheng and Yuta have gotten together like he always thought they would. They aren’t perfect, but they lean on each other in times of need and that’s plenty.

It’s not easy. It’s not simple. But it will happen. They will keep their brothers in their hearts not as a reminder of pain or guilt or shame, but as a reason to keep moving forward. That’s what they would have wanted.

Or, that’s what Taeyong keeps telling himself to get him through the bleak days. He’s catching himself falling into rut after rut. He can’t stop cleaning the living areas, but he can’t bear to touch any of the fallen’s rooms. He won’t let anyone go in there. They pile up with dirt and dust and clutter which makes him ill but he can’t-- can’t go and erase any sign that his precious babies once lived there. Can’t live with _ himself_, in general.

Jaehyun’s wrapped behind him, one cheek pressed to Taeyong’s shoulder. “We need to let go.” He murmurs into his skin. Jaehyun took a long time to recovery, spending the better part of a year in the hospital for injuries and psychological trauma. His mouth healed, but he was left partially-- selectively-- mute, so his voice always sends shivers down Taeyong’s spine. Sometimes Taeyong thinks he sees Jaehyun’s eyes flash dangerously, or glimpses his veins stand out against his pale skin. Sometimes Taeyong looks in the mirror and sees glowing, _ horribly glowing red eyes_.

“We need to let go.” Taeyong agrees.

Later that week Yuta comes to him with hands shamefully tucked behind his back.

“You cleaned their rooms, didn’t you.” Taeyong says monotonously. He clings to the numbness to avoid the crushing depression hanging over his head. Why can’t he heal? Why can’t he recover?

Yuta nods nervously, bringing his hands around to his front. There’s something cupped in them. “The company gave most of it back to their families or gave it away-- with their consent of course. I mean, I think. You never know with companies like these, but man our boys always did love community service,” Yuta gives a fond, but weak chuckle at the mention of their lost ones, “But I thought you...might want to keep this.”

A dark oval of wood with an even circle of glass cut into the middle, flowers and vines etched into the sides in swirling acrylic paint.

“Chenle’s keychain…” Taeyong breathes, reaching out for it. Chenle’s keychain, with Jisung’s suicide note hidden on the back. His last memento of his babies.

_ We need to let go. _

He snatches his hand back as if burned by the knick-knack. “Thank you, Yuta, but I can’t-- I just--” Yuta shuts him up with a hug and a solemn, “I understand.”

It’s not easy. It’s not enjoyable. Taeyong can hardly call it living, but as he rakes his eyes over the sleeping profile of Jaehyun next to him, listens to the hustle and bustle of the boys running rampant outside in their massive apartment, he thinks that it’s enough.

It’s enough.

  
  
  


_________________________

  
  
  
  
  
  


Hendery kicks down the doors to the rookies dorm with a prize in hand. He calls for the rest of his brothers, and two sets of feet come pounding down the stairs to their friend’s cry.

“What’s up, ‘Dery?” Xiaojun ruffles the boy’s hair affectionately.

Hendery hoists a board above his head and swings a small piece in his hand happily. “Look!”

A dark oval of wood with an even circle of glass cut into the middle, flowers and vines etched into the sides in swirling acrylic paint.

“Where did you get a ouija board, dude?” Yangyang tilts his head in confusion. “We don’t have one.”

“It has the planchette too, how cool!” Hendery fiddles with the piece. It has kind of a rough, scratchy back, the paint thick and globbed up, but it’s still pretty. “Some people at the company were giving a bunch of stuff away in honor of something or other, I dunno. You know how hush-hush the higher ups can be. It just called to me!” He grins, setting his phone down on the table opened to the camera. “We can take photos and look for orbs or ghosts with this.”

Unease creeps into the pit of Xiaojun’s stomach as he looks at the board. There’s a dark energy coming from it. “This doesn’t feel like a good idea.”

At his brothers’ dubious looks, Hendery scoffs.

“Come on, it’ll be an adventure! Wanna play?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**N E U T R A L E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 45](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745228) _

  
  
_[END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396)_  
  
  
  
  



	28. twenty-eight.

_ ACCUSE JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

  
  
  


**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)


	29. twenty-nine.

_ FIND THE FERRIS WHEEL _

_ → Selected! _

They set off.

“Okay, we’ll start towards the Ferris wheel. No one’s climbing it unless it’s safe, okay?” Taeyong shoves aside the hesitation in his gut. He’s got to learn how to take advice from his other members; he’s running a democracy, not a dictatorship. “Good thinking, Duckie.” He whispers into the thin boy’s hair as he pulls him close. Donghyuck’s bony fingers clutch onto him.

“I hope it works.” He says, casting a worried glance to Johnny and Doyoung. “They look...shaken.”

Taeyong cranes his neck back. He and Donghyuck are travelling in the middle of the group, the front being lead by Taeil and Kun, who have the best understanding over the map. Some of the group has chosen to avoid Lucas, who refuses to leave Jungwoo’s side near the back. A few stragglers do hang behind to comfort the tall man, but even further behind them are Doyoung and Johnny, dragging their feet.

“I’ll talk to them.” Taeyong stops in place, waiting for the pair to catch up to them. It takes a worryingly long time, especially when he knows that their strides are so long. Johnny seems to be slightly supporting Doyoung.

“Doie? Feeling okay?” Taeyong says softly, petting the younger boy’s hair. 

Doyoung’s chin drops toward his chest. “M’fine.” He mumbles.

Taeyong quirks an eyebrow at Johnny, who sighs before he speaks. He doesn’t look well either, face pallid and gaunt. “We’re just...stressed.”

“That bad, huh?” Taeyong stares straight ahead, into the cold, dark night. “Outside, I mean.”

Doyoung shudders. “It was scary, knowing our main entrance was busted, not knowing what happened. I felt...helpless. Trapped.” His voice breaks into a whisper on the last word. Something sharp pierces Taeyong’s heart.

The Ferris wheel lies somewhere far ahead of them, large and looming in the dim light.

“It’s not your fault, guys-- if anything, you should feel proud. You saved us from...God knows what.” Taeyong clasps Doyoung’s hand in his, taking Johnny’s with his other hand. He swings them slightly, hoping to transfer some of his energy to them. If he has to fake confidence, then so be it.

It looks like they need it.

“You’re right. Thanks, Yong.” A hint of a smile turns the corner of Johnny’s lips up. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Taeyong ignores the shiver of foreboding trailing down his spine, moving forward to catch up with Jaehyun. He catches the younger boy’s hand in his. Noticing Taeyong’s discomfort, Jaehyun rubs a comforting thumb over Taeyong’s knuckles. He doesn’t speak, recognizing that that’s not what Taeyong needs right now.

Taeyong couldn’t be more grateful for his rock.

After a few more minutes of walking, they arrive at the base of the Ferris wheel. The long line, marked off by ropes and poles, is housed under a little wooden canopy. In front of it is a large metal base with fence around it, the wheel arcing up from there. The gate is cracked open, creaking in the slight wind. There’s a car positioned at ground level, almost as if someone was about to board.

They’ve got little fun facts about the ride posted on the scratched up walls. Taeyong grimaces at all the chewed up gum stuck on the posts, teenager’s cell phone numbers and social media handles scrawled all over the place.

“The wheel is 550 feet, or 167.6 meters, tall. The largest Ferris wheel in the world.” Yuta drawls, reading off one of the signs. “That’s a long fall.”

“That’s a weird thing to say.” The words grate over Taeyong’s throat.

Yuta shrugs. “I’m just saying, if we go up that thing...we’ll have to be careful, yeah? It doesn’t look super stable.” The group moves forward, under the little covering. Flies buzz around one of the flickering lights on the ceiling. They don’t do much to dispel the darkness.

“It’s deserted.” remarks Sicheng, running his fingertips along the rotten wood. 

He’s right. There’s not a soul in sight. Usually that’s a positive for an amusement park, but here...?

“There’s no line. Yay.” Ten says dryly, ducking under the posts to get to the front of the line. He’s always been a bit of a rebel.

Taeyong is winding his way through the line when he stops dead in his tracks, ice clawing at his stomach as something occurs to him. He immediately steps out of the line and heads over to the side, where a small booth is settled. He peers in the tinted windows, dread hardening in his chest as his suspicions are confirmed.

“There really is no one here. Like, not even an operator.” Taeyong knocks on the glass for good measure. He can just barely make out what’s inside from the glowing buttons on the dashboard.

The room is empty, but the chair spins slowly.

“Okay, we’ll have to come up with a new plan.” Kun says, already turning around.

“And what would that be?” Jungwoo challenges. “I don’t think we have any other options.”

Ten steps up to Jungwoo, eyes flashing dangerously. “Forgive us for not taking advice from a _ murderer’s lover_.”

Lucas tightens his grip on Jungwoo’s arm. “Leave Jungwoo out of this.”

“Oh, you _ best _not be daring to speak to me, you filthy--”

“Hey, hey!” Jaehyun breaks them up, shoving a hand in Ten’s way. “Cool down, Ten. We can’t be fighting. And besides...Jungwoo is right.”

“What?!” Taeyong’s jaw drops open. “We can’t! None of us know how to operate this thing, and we aren’t just climbing around the outside all willy-nilly. It was a great idea, but it’s too dangerous, okay?”

_ I can’t let my family get hurt. _

“Well what do you suggest we do? We can’t go out the main entrance, and we don’t know what’s waiting for us out there. Are we really better off wandering the park aimlessly?” Jisung looks anxiously up at the large contraption in front of them. “We’re sitting ducks like that.”

Johnny pries open the door to the control booth, surveying the scene for a little. “I don’t think it’s that hard. Just squeeze the button on top of the control lever to put it into gear, press the button there to power it up and let her go.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kun laughs, but a bit of hysteria glimmers beneath it. “You’re absolutely kidding. Don’t these workers need, like, special training to know how to operate this safely? We can’t just rush into this!”

“Johnny seems to know what he’s doing.” Chenle says in a small voice. “I don’t want to go back out there without knowing what we’re facing…”

The group instantly turns to Taeyong, who flinches under their stares. He’s honestly not sure what to do-- the mother hen side of him wants desperately to pull his kids away from the rickety machine and figure out some other way, _ any _ other way, but his logical side can’t come up with an alternate plan. He trusts Johnny, he _ has _ to trust his right hand man. If it’ll help them find an exit and make them feel productive, maybe it’s worth a shot.

Taeyong chews on his lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. “Johnny, do you know how to stop it?”

“I think so. You just move the lever off the clutch and to the brake setting. It shouldn’t be that hard, as long as it doesn’t stick.” Johnny folds himself into the booth, knees knocking against the low dashboard. He gingerly trails his fingers across the buttons. 

“I-I can help.” Jungwoo speaks up, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I used to go to a school for engineering, I know my way around machinery. I can help!”

Ten sneers. “As if we’d let a_ traitor _in the booth. We can’t trust either of you!”

Jungwoo’s lower lip trembles. He looks like a kicked puppy, and Taeyong wants to scream. He knows Ten is just on edge and worried for their safety, but they all are. “Stop lashing out at people, Ten. Trust in my trust in them, okay?”

Something crumbles behind Ten’s sour expression, and he reluctantly averts his eyes. “Heard, boss.”

“Jungwoo, honey, I don’t think there’s room for anyone else in the booth, okay?” Doyoung pats his arm. “Wait with the rest of them.”

Renjun cocks his head, picking up on the weird phrasing. “Them? Where are_ you _ going, then?”

Doyoung shoves past Taeyong at the front of the line, clambering into the empty gondola in front of them. The car rocks with his weight. The groan it releases is far from reassuring.

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow in worry, flashing back to Doyoung’s unstable gait on the way over. “A-Are you sure, Doie?” Hs fingers scratch at the metal of the gate. “Maybe someone else should go.”

Doyoung pitches forward, clutching onto Taeyong’s sleeve as he brings their faces close. “Let me be helpful, Taeyong.” His hot breath fans across Taeyong’s face, anguish reflected in his eyes. He whispers hysterically, low enough that the rest of the group won’t pick up on his panic. “Please, _ please _ let me be helpful. I can’t-- I can’t just sit around and watch things happen anymore!”

“Okay, okay, Doyoung.” Taeyong gently removes the boy’s tight grip, his fingers falling away without much protest. He can’t help but feel that this is a bad decision, but it seems like it’ll settle Doyoung’s nerves a bit. He does have a habit of keeping busy when he’s stressed. Unease settles over him at the thought of sending him up there alone, away from Taeyong. “I’ll come with you, keep you company.” Taeyong climbs in after him, playfully knocking shoulders with the boy.

Doyoung doesn’t say a word.

“I’m coming, too.” Yuta elbows his way into their tiny cart, sitting with Doyoung across from Taeyong.

“Yuta, you really shouldn’t--”

“You can’t control me, Taeyong. I don’t care what you say, I know what’s best for us and I’m _ coming_.” He punctates the last two words with a hit on his thigh. 

The words might be hurtful to anyone else, and sure Taeyong was easily frustrated with Yuta earlier on in the day, but he’s been with these boys for longer than he can remember. He’s raised most of them. He can see right through them, especially Yuta who he spent many months quarreling with before they started to find common ground.

He knows the boy is just stressed. He’s been having some unrelated mood issues, and the whole Lucas situation has been particularly difficult for him to handle. Just like Doyoung, he needs to feel like he’s being useful. He’s desperate to mean something to the team, no matter what his sharp tongue makes them believe.

“Fine.” Taeyong rolls his eyes. Just because he knows where Yuta is coming from and he loves him all the same, doesn’t mean he has to be happy about putting up with this treatment. 

What a brat.

“You guys ready?” Johnny signals from inside the control booth. Taeyong sends him two thumbs up and a wry smile.

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Yuta nods at them.

“Okay, let’s crank this thing up!”

Taeyong’s breath catches in his throat as the cart lurches forward, gears cranking uneasily. “This--it won’t be off balance, right? With all of us in one car?”

Doyoung pulls at a frayed string on his shirt. “It’s not _ that _ old, right? Surely the modern ones are built for any number of people.”

_ Yuta read those signs, he would know. _Taeyong glances nervously at the boy. He doesn’t say a word.

Slowly, the gondola passes through the end of the docking station and lifts off the ground. Taeyong’s heart pounds in his chest, sweaty palms making the handrails slick with sweat, but he must keep focused on the task.

_ You’re here for a reason, Taeyong. You can’t fail. You can’t fail. _

Taeyong selected the inward seat, so his back faces the rest of the park as the ascend. Since no one occupies the space next to him, it’s easy to twist to see the rest of the park.

He assumes the others are doing the same, looking for any clues.

Taeyong squints into the distance. As they’re climbing, the park gets smaller and smaller in view, but it does little to shroud the fact that they are well and truly alone. He doesn’t see anyone else wandering the grounds.

He can’t see any immediate exits, at least not yet, so he turns his gaze towards the front of the park. He knows he shouldn’t look, because whatever Doyoung and Johnny saw shocked them so badly they could barely speak.

_ We saw blood. _

Taeyong is a leader, and sometimes a leader must sacrifice himself for the good of the team.

_ Don’t fail. Don’t fail. Don’t fail. _

Taeyong’s blood turns to ice as his eyes rest upon the scene at the front of the park-- or rather, the _ lack _ of a scene. There do appear to be large gates, but that’s as far as the story matches up.

There’s not a single car in the parking lot, smashed or otherwise.

“H-Hey guys, did you see--” Taeyong’s words are cut off with a scream as the cart careens to the left, throwing him into the low-cut side as he tries to turn around. Wheezing, he rights himself only to let out another screech at the disaster in front of him.

“_Help!” _ He wails, praying the wind doesn’t rip his voice away from him. “Bring us down! _ Bring us down!” _

Yuta and Doyoung are full out _ brawling _ on the other side of the gondola. Taeyong can’t tell who’s attacking who, but from the way the cart rocked he can only assume it was Doyoung launching himself at Yuta.

“Fucking-- shit! What the _ fu _\--” Yuta is screaming his lungs out, fists hurtling in Doyoung’s direction. Half of them aren’t even landing, but it looks like he isn’t going for precision. His eyes look glazed, skin tinged with green and bumpy veins tracing patterns across his arms. There’s blood dripping down from a cut above his eyebrow, tears of blood slipping down his face.

_ The tears sliding off his fingertips are tinged red with blood. _

Doyoung is sobbing, tears streaming down his gaunt face as his fingers struggle to close over Yuta’s neck. There’s terror shining in his eyes even as he scrabbles desperately at Yuta’s face. His screams are wordless and endless.

“Stop! Stop-- _ please!” _ Taeyong sobs as he presses himself up against the chilly back of his seat, rooted to the ground in fear as he watches two of his brothers go at each other’s throats. 

Yuta’s fingers find a bruising grip on Doyoung’s shoulders, slamming the boy’s head into the metal bar behind them. Taeyong is nearly thrown off the car, clinging onto the shoddy safety rail. Doyoung’s head rolls limply on his neck before snapping up, eyes flashing dangerously as he throws himself at Yuta. He slashes at the boy’s chest, blood dribbling from his chin.

Taeyong’s eyes flicker between them, pulse racing and breathing labored as he frantically tries to figure out what’s going on. He needs to stop them-- he knows he does! But how, when he has no clue what happened?

He can’t discern who is on the offensive and who is on the defensive. If he throws himself in the middle of it, they could all die. He can barely hang on as it is, with the cart rocking so violently. How naive is he to assume he can stop whatever madness has taken over them?

Yuta is trying to smash Doyoung’s head in, surely he’s the attacker? Or, is Taeyong letting his own emotions shape his perceptions? Wasn’t Doyoung the one who went after Yuta first?

A sharp headache pulses through Taeyong’s skull, forcing him to double over in pain.

_ You are a leader, and sometimes a leader must sacrifice himself for the good of the team. _

Taeyong’s gaze strays to the ground. Even so far away, he can pick out his precious family waiting diligently at the bottom.

_ You can’t abandon them all. You can’t fail. _

“I don’t-- I d-don’t know w-what to do!” Taeyong blubbers, the agony in his head amplifying tenfold. 

_ You’re a coward if you let them die. _

He can’t just let his brothers kill each other, but he can’t risk getting himself killed and putting the rest of his family-- his other _ fifteen brothers _\-- at risk.

_ “PLEASE!” _

  
  
  
  


_ HELP YUTA? _

_ [→ Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744238) _

_ HELP DOYOUNG? _

_ [→ Chapter 20 [WARNING: ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744751) _

_ DON’T INTERVENE? _

_ [→ Chapter 51](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745312) _


	30. thirty.

_ LET JAEHYUN LIVE _

_ → Selected! _

_ I can’t let my anchor sink. _

Taeyong stares in disbelief at the prone figure on the ground. There’s no way, there’s just absolutely no way that crazy story can be true. Jaehyun would never hurt anyone. Not only that, but how could he have committed any of the earlier murders? He was right next to Taeyong the whole time!

“Get up.” Taeyong says, voice thick with stress and sorrow. “Get up!” He grabs Jaehyun by the arm, roughly hauling him up and depositing him back on his feet. 

“W-What? Taeyong, you don’t understand!” Jaehyun is still begging him, tears shining in his eyes. Jaehyun latches onto the front of Taeyong’s hoodie, shaking him back and forth. “You need to! You need to keep everyone safe!”

“_Stop!” _ Taeyong yells. Jaehyun slows. He’s still hanging onto Taeyong’s shirt, but it’s more for support now. Taeyong cups Jaehyun’s face in two hands and pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together. He runs a comforting hand up and down Jaehyun’s back. “Listen. I’m not going to sacrifice you for some bullshit reason! When I said I was going to s-save everyone, that includes you. I made a promise to myself to do everything in my power to keep my boys safe, and I’m not breaking that for something as flimsy as that.”

“You-- you don’t believe me.” Jaehyun says, unbelieving. His head drops to hang low between them. He buries his face in his hands, stuttering with a hysterical smile across his features. “Oh my god, you don’t believe me. This is fucking insane!”

“No, Jaehyun, you know what’s fucking insane? You asking me to _ kill you_. I understand you’re probably feeling guilty over Ch...over Chenle, but what happened isn’t your fault! It-- it isn’t anyone’s fault. It was a huge accident and we’re lucky you’re alive. J-Just think! Would Chenle want you to do this? Would Jisung? Or Lucas, Taeil, Johnny, Ten, or Mark?”

Jaehyun doesn’t reply.

“Think about all the loss we’ve gone through.” Taeyong says desperately, unsure of how to drive any sense into the boy. “Do you want to hurt the boys like that? You know I love you more than anything in the world.” Taeyong sweeps Jaehyun into a tight hug, resting his cheek on the other boy’s shoulder. “And I won’t let you die.”

A beat late, Jaehyun brings his arms around Taeyong to reciprocate the hug. He sniffles, and then bursts into hysterical sobs, nuzzling into Taeyong’s neck. 

“You’re m-making a huge mistake.” He whines, hiccuping through his cries. Taeyong shushes him carefully, gently leading them back to the campsite. Jaehyun is stumbling on his feet, but seems to have caught his breath a bit. He’s cried himself to exhaustion, so Taeyong softly lays him down. He takes off his jacket and covers the boy with it.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Taeyong whispers, voice quaking as he looks down on the sleeping boy. Jaehyun’s face is all twisted up as he dreams, eyes scrunched and mouth frowning. Taeyong leans down to brush a tear away from his eyes, and gently presses his lips to Jaehyun’s forehead. His eyes travel down Jaehyun’s face, hesitating on his neck.

The bruise marks are still there.

He stands up to brush himself off and assess the rest of the group. They’re huddled exactly where he left them.

“Yong? What’s wrong with Jaehyun?” Jungwoo approaches him cautiously, stopping a few feet away. “I-Is he okay…?” Jungwoo is picking at the skin around his fingernails. Clearly the worry for Jaehyun was getting to him.

Taeyong chews on his lip a bit. “C’mere.” He opens one arm wide and curls Jungwoo into his side, running soft fingers through his hair. He untangles some parts of his bangs. “Jaehyun is...he’s okay. He’s just dealing with a bit of survivor’s guilt. He’ll get through it, we just need to be there for him. Okay?”

Jungwoo nods firmly. “Always.”

“Good!” Taeyong ruffles his hair, and he ducks away with a giggle. “Now, can you round up the babies?”

Jungwoo turns back to the clearing. The dreamies are still dozing further off into the site. “Ji--” His eyes widen and he claps a hand over his mouth at his slip up. Taeyong grabs his hand, squeezing it gently.

“It’s okay.”

Jungwoo steels himself and calls the sleeping dreamies over to join the rest of the group. Doyoung sets them on their path once more, trekking endlessly through the thick woods. After about two hours of nothing but the soft crunch of footfalls against leaves, a small voice pipes up next to Taeyong.

“It feels like we’re never going to get there.” Renjun says quietly, voice absolutely emotionless. Taeyong shivers at how cold and empty he sounds.

“Don’t say that, Junnie, we’ll get--”

“_Don’t _ call me that.” Renjun snarls. The heat seeping from his words evaporates in an instant as his shoulders slump defeatedly.

Taeyong stares at him, open-mouthed. What did he say? Renjun never snaps like that. He teases and pretends to get mad, but rarely does he disrespect his members like that. That’s extremely odd for him.

Then again, Taeyong supposes that they’re all a little odd now.

Donghyuck comes up from behind them, taking Renjun’s hands and holding them tightly as the boy angles his body away from them. “That was Chenle’s nickname for him.” Donghyuck explains, gaze tender as he checks up on Renjun. It’s isn’t accusatory, but Taeyong feels the hurt burning in his heart regardless.

“Oh.” He smooths Renjun’s hair out of his face, trying to make the other boy look their way. “We’re going to get out of this, all of us. Trust me. And please, don’t shut us out.”

Renjun nods briskly. He starts to walk faster, taking Donghyuck with him, but he isn’t fast enough to conceal the tears welling up in his eyes.

Taeyong stares wistfully after them, hoping that even though he’s failed them again and again, they’ll still trust him. If they don’t, he doesn’t know how he’s going to keep their dwindling family together.

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He whispers as he watches them go.

Checking to make sure there isn’t anyone lagging behind him, Taeyong confidently brings up the rear of the group and entrusts Doyoung to lead them the right way. He peers out over the group; Doyoung and Kun are pushing their way through the bushes in the front, Jungwoo is helping a struggling Jaehyun in the middle, and Sicheng and Yuta are walking hand in hand. Taeyong vaguely wonders when that happened, but knows better than to say anything. Knowing the pair, they probably aren’t going to talk about it. Kun is behind them, and Jeno and Jaemin are tucked into each other’s sides as if they’re scared the other will disappear if they let go.

They probably are.

Renjun and Donghyuck catch up to Jeno and Jaemin. They lean into each other, somehow cramming all four of them across the narrow trail.

Taeyong moves upwards so he and Jaehyun can walk hand in hand for a little bit, the other boy’s warm presence grounding Taeyong immensely. 

“How long do you think it’ll be before we get to the end?” Taeyong wonders out loud. Jaehyun doesn’t reply. Taeyong looks over to see what’s caught his attention, and the boy is mysteriously absorbed in his phone. “Jae? We don’t have service out here, what are you doing on that thing?”

Jaehyun’s finger swipes methodically back and forth in his photo album, not showing any signs of hearing Taeyong. When Taeyong leans over to catch a glimpse of what has gotten Jaehyun so entranced, the boy jumps away, a protective hand covering the screen. He isn’t fast enough to prevent Taeyong from seeing the pictures he was flicking between, just for a brief second. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Jaehyun was swiping between a photo of Jungwoo and a photo of their remaining dreamies. They’re all candid photos, but somehow each subject is staring directly into the camera, the flash giving them hauntingly red eyes.

Taeyong shivers. “Jae, why are you documenting this?”

Jaehyun’s eyes are blank and glassy. “Told you. For the police. Just in case.” His voice is monotonous, sentences short and clipped.

“Okay…” says Taeyong. He doesn’t reach for Jaehyun’s hand again.

Jungwoo motions for them to stop. “I need to go to the bathroom. Can we rest here?” He says timidly.

Taeyong nods. “‘Course. Just take a buddy.” He doesn’t want to risk anyone getting separated. 

“I’ll go.” Jaehyun volunteers. He looks pretty sickly, like he’s about to throw up. Jungwoo already has his arm wrapped around Jaehyun, so the two hobble into the woods together. Taeyong sighs and sidles his way over to Jeno and Jaemin. “How are you holding up?” He asks them tenderly.

“We’re-- we’re okay.” The boys look at him with wobbly smiles. They’re obviously just trying to put on a mask to make Taeyong not worry. He appreciates it to an extent, but he hopes they know that they don’t have to hide from their emotions. Taeyong can’t find it in him to bring it up to them directly, so he flits around the group to check in on everyone. Doyoung falls back with Jeno for the moment, hugging him close to his side.

Taeyong’s heart breaks as he watches over the few boys milling about. With every growing second he feels the absence of the ones they’ve lost harder and harder. Their numbers have fallen so sharply.

The crackling of leaves and branches announces Jungwoo and Jaehyun’s return, and they set off on the road once again. Taeyong drifts up and down the group, hypersensitive to each member’s every move. He’s lost far too many by spacing out when they walk, letting people run off or stray from the group.

No more.

For a brief period of time, things move rather smoothly. Doyoung even thinks they might be getting closer to the opposite side of the woods. It’s probably just false hope, considering Doyoung has no way of knowing where they are, but false hope is better than complete despair any day.

What goes up must come down.

Taeyong allows himself to fall into step besides Jungwoo. He and Jaehyun have separated. Jungwoo now brings up the back of the group, while Jaehyun is more towards the front with Doyoung. Taeyong can tell Jaehyun doesn’t trust Doyoung, but he doesn’t push it.

“You holding up okay?” Taeyong begins to ask, but he can already tell the answer by Jungwoo’s body language. He’s visibly limping, his breathing labored and his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Oh my god Jungwoo, what happened?” Taeyong loops an arm around his waist to help him walk, but he bats it away with weird motions.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, don’t-- ah,” He winces, “Don’t worry about me.”

“...That’s bullshit, Jungwoo. Tell me what’s wrong!”

There’s a long stretch of silence as Jungwoo focuses on evening his gait. It’s clear that every step is sending jolts of pain through him, but he tries not to make a sound. Taeyong clenches and unclenches his fists. Why won’t Jungwoo let him help?

“Ugh, fine. But promise me you won’t worry.” Jungwoo doesn’t bother to wait for Taeyong to promise because he knows he’ll worry anyways. Which is true. “I think something bit me back there.”

“_ What? _You got bitten by something and you didn’t say anything?” Taeyong rubs at his eyes in frustration. God, that’s just fucking perfect. He hopes it’s not anything serious. None of them have first aid kids -- as much as Taeyong is an overly worried helicopter parent, he didn’t bother to bring a first aid kit to an amusement park outing-- or access to any medical help, let alone knowledge of anything like that.

Jungwoo shrugs. “It was when me and Jaehyun went to go to the bathroom. I don’t know what happened to me, to be honest. I just saw this flash of light and then my leg hurt really bad. But I was already feeling pretty ill before that, so I don’t think the bite was anything bad. We get bug bites all the time! It’s no big deal.” Jungwoo dismisses the whole thing with the wave of a hand. “Jaehyun said it was nothing to worry about.”

“Jaehyun said that, huh…” Taeyong glances towards the front of the group. Jaehyun doesn’t look much better than Jungwoo, to be honest. He’s stumbling all over the path, limbs limp and body moving at an awkward pace. “That’s not too comforting.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “We have more important things to worry about than a bug bite. The faster we get out of here, the faster we can eat and the faster we’ll all get over this little sickness we’ve got.”

Something just doesn’t sit right with Taeyong, but he lets it go for the time being. He’ll ask Jaehyun about the incident more when he gets a chance.

More slow, hazy hours pass in the woods. “This is ridiculous.” Yuta complains loudly. “There’s no way these woods are so big!”

Jaemin frowns, brushing his fingers against a tree with odd looking gnarls on the trunk. “Haven’t we passed this like three times already?”

Doyoung scowls at the ground. “I was so sure we were going the right way though, I know so!”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know that, huh?” Yuta presses a finger into Doyoung’s chest in challenge. Doyoung puffs up at the accusation.

“What are you trying to say, Yuta?”

“Hey, hey, stop!” Taeyong intervenes, pushing the two away from each other. “There’s no need to point fingers. Why don’t we just...um…”

“We can mark tree trunks as we go. Or build little rock piles as we pass landmarks in order to keep track of where we’ve been. That’s what a lot of hikers do.” Renjun mutters quietly. His voice still holds no inflection, and he’s speaking low enough that Jeno has to relay his message to the rest of the group.

“That’s a good idea.” Sicheng says as he starts to stack some rocks by the twisted tree.

They move again, slower this time. They’re exhausted from lack of food and sleep, stress, and the added despair of knowing that they’re heading in circles. They don’t have many other options though, so they push on. Doyoung is desperately trying to figure out how they keep ending up in a loop, but as the day melts to night Taeyong begins to lose hope that they’ll ever make it out.

They pass the gnarled tree with the rocks another two times. No one says a word.

“We-- we need to-- can we stop?” Jungwoo pants. He looks even worse than before, cheeks flushed and limbs trembling with the effort of keeping him upright. Jaehyun doesn’t look much better.

They set up camp. No one speaks. They’re resigning themselves to another night spent in what seems like neverending woods.

“I’m so hungry…” Donghyuck whines, patting at his stomach. The other dreamies snuggle into him to take his mind off of the feeling, making the small boy giggle at the hands tickling at his sides.

To the right of their new campsite, there’s a small bush with round little fruits growing on it. “Berries?” says Sicheng curiously, reaching up to pluck one off of the branch. Yuta’s arm snaps out immediately, pulling Sicheng’s wrist down before he can touch any of it.

“Stop!” He hisses. “You have no idea if those are safe or not!”

Sicheng frowns, rubbing at his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t be so careless.” Yuta reprimands him, but there’s no anger behind the words, just fear. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He pulls a shocked Sicheng into a tight hug. Sicheng returns it in full, squeezing Yuta to him.

Taeyong leans in to inspect the berries. Yuta is right; despite the temptation, he knows that there’s no way to verify that they’re safe. He sighs heavily and releases the branch, watching it snap back into position. He herds the older boys to bed; the dreamies have already fallen asleep in their little cuddle pile.

To his surprise, Taeyong sleeps through the night. He wakes up naturally, the rising sun disrupting his sleep. Despite the lack of food, he’s feeling better than before just from being well rested. It’s fairly early, so he doesn’t expect anyone else to be awake. Taeyong knows they need to get moving again, but he sees their peaceful sleeping faces and can’t bring himself to disturb their rare moments of peace.

He will regret sleeping through the night.

Taeyong hustles and bustles around the clearing. There’s really not anything to do, but he tries to keep himself busy anyways. He keeps trying and trying to run away from the crushing guilt of everything that’s happened, but it always finds some way to get back at him, preying on him when he’s alone.

He decides to pack and repack the backpacks. They’ve all left them in a pile on the side of the clearing, so it isn’t hard. He sifts through water bottles, rain jackets, more granola bars and little snacks that they’ve all been living off of, etc. They’ve been lugging around the bags of some of the members they’ve lost-- they already had Lucas’s from after the ride, and Chenle, Ten, Jisung, and Mark all left theirs behind.

Taeyong shudders at the thought. He starts to go through their stuff, transferring the usable contents to his backpack. It feels uncomfortably like grave robbing, but it has to be done. He can’t just let food for his boys go to waste because he doesn’t want to touch their departed members things. With a heavy heart, Taeyong piles the unused, empty bags behind a tree, marking the trunk with an X. There’s no way they can continue to bring all those extra bags around with them, it’s just not possible. They’re going to get out, and then call the police to recover the bodies and their backpacks. It will be okay.

He takes about two steps away from the discarded bags before something tugs in his gut. He spins on his heel, digging through the pile to come up with Chenle’s bag. He still has that damned keychain hanging from the bag. With hesitant fingers, Taeyong removes it and clips it around the belt loop of his jeans. His last little piece of his babies, and he’ll treasure it forever.

The older members are beginning to wake up now, Doyoung rising groggily from his position curled up on the ground. The dreamies are still crushed into each other’s chests, unmoving. Yuta, Sicheng, and Kun are cuddled up as well. Jaehyun lays with his limbs splayed out. Taeyong can nearly trace where he was laying in his arms just an hour earlier.

Jungwoo comes blustering through the trees to Taeyong’s left. He looks even worse than earlier, wiping at his mouth.

“Jungwoo, were you just sick?” Taeyong heart sinks in worry, but there’s nothing he can do. Jungwoo stares straight ahead, blank for a few seconds before bristling uncharacteristically.

“I told you not to worry.” He stalks off towards Yuta and Sicheng. Taeyong sighs. He knows whatever illness or exhaustion he’s going through is probably exacerbating his irritation, but it’s still frustrating to be constantly shut out like that.

They just don’t trust him anymore. He doesn’t blame them.

“Can someone else wake up the kiddos?” Yuta rubs at his eyes. “They’re sleeping like logs, I can’t get them up.”

Taeyong frowns. That’s weird; Jeno and Donghyuck are heavy sleepers, but Renjun and Jaemin are far from it. Jaemin is usually too hopped up on sugar and caffeine to sleep soundly for more than two or three hours at a time, usually waking up to slip into one of his boyfriend’s beds, and Renjun is constantly awoken by small noises that he thinks are ghosts. He supposes that the exhaustion could have just really gotten to them, but there’s a bad feeling in his stomach as he heads over to check on them.

“Babies? Rise and shine, it’s morning!” Taeyong tries to keep a bright smile on his face, but it’s barely concealing the frantic worry behind it. He can’t help but blow every little incident out of proportion now. He reaches down to shake Jaemin’s shoulder, since he’s laying on the outside of the four, but he doesn’t move or open his eyes.

“Dreamies? Renjun?” Taeyong turns to him, gently pulling Renjun’s hand out from where it’s tucked underneath Donghyuck and Jaemin. His hand is completely still in Taeyong’s, cold and stiff. “What in the world…Duckie?” Taeyong takes turns shaking each boy, but none of them respond. Growing hysterical, he presses an ear to each of their chests, desperately trying to find a pulse anywhere on their bodies.

“Please, _ please!” _ Taeyong cries, shaking the boys harder and harder. “_Please! You can’t leave me!” _

_ Not like this. _

“Taeyong? Taeyong, what’s wrong?!” Everyone else rushes over to him, fear in their gazes and in every line of their bodies. Taeyong scrambles backwards in horror. He can’t process what he’s seeing, it just can’t be true! He motions wordlessly to the boys laying on the ground in front of him, unable to speak. Once he says it out loud, it’s real and his babies will truly be ripped away from him forever.

He can’t.

“The dreamies. Th-they’re dead!” Sicheng gasps, a hand on Renjun’s cheek. All four boys are still tangled up in each other, skin white and bloodless, dark circles under their eyes.

“Oh my god…” Jaehyun puts a hand to his mouth in shock. Kun turns away, but he can’t hide the trembling of his shoulders as he sobs into the sleeve of his shirt. Doyoung is knelt by them, eyes glassy and blank as he runs his hands lovingly through Jeno’s soft hair for the last time.

“I don’t understand…” Yuta breathes, and then wails in anguish, clenched fists coming down to bang at his thighs. “I don’t _ fucking _ understand! How could this have happened? _ How?_!”

Taeyong buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking violently as he cries and cries for his lost babies. All the dreamies have been taken from him now, and he’s never felt so hollow and purposeless in his life. Of course all the members are important to him, he’s lost mentors and best friends and right hand men and past loves, but he’s practically raised the dreamies since they were so, so little and to see them all die right before his eyes…

Taeyong really doesn’t know how long he can hang on here.

“I j-just,” Kun starts, breathing erratic. He can’t make eye contact with any of them. “I just don’t understand...what happened to them? How did we lose them all at once? It’s just not possible...”

“And we were all right there. Right _ fucking _there, how did we not hear anything?” Sicheng mutters. “I should have heard something.”

Doyoung removes his hand from Jeno’s hair, peering closer at the boy’s face. “Oh...oh, no.”

“What is it?” Jaehyun asks. Taeyong would investigate, but he can’t pull himself out of his sobs.

“His lips...they’re stained blue. Like, bluish purple. Almost like...th-there’s no way they would have eaten those berries, right?”

“No way.” Taeyong finally speaks up. “D-Didn’t we make it clear not to eat them? That we couldn’t be sure they were safe?”

“Yeah, but did the dreamies hear that? Or were they asleep and woke up hungry, and just decided to get a snack?” Jaehyun prods. Tear tracks mark his face, but he’s not as devastated as Taeyong thought he’d be. It seems with each tragedy they dissociate themselves more and more from the emotion of the situation.

Taeyong deflates. Oh, god, that makes a lot of sense. Fuck. Kun, the strong soul, places a thumb to Donghyuck’s lip and gently opens his mouth.

“Strange...all the boys have berry stains on their lips, but they didn’t swallow the whole berry. There are remnants in there.”

“Gross,” Sicheng hiccups, swatting Kun away. “Leave them to rest in peace! Dont-- D-Don’t bother them!”

“I was just trying to figure out what happened to them.” Kun defends himself quietly. No one really listens, too caught up in their individual worlds ending.

Taeyong staggers to his feet, walking briskly away from the group. They yell after him, but he doesn’t go out of their line of sight. He crouches by some wildflowers growing in a patch of sun. He collects four of the prettiest looking flowers in the patch, picking them gently and walking back to lay one on each of their chests. The boys are already cuddled up to each other, but Taeyong tenderly arranges them so their hands are linked, eyes swiped closed.

Perhaps they couldn’t give peaceful send offs to most of the fallen, but Taeyong will take what he can get. He’ll make it up to everyone else, build them beautiful statues and donate in their names and put his whole life towards repenting for his shortsightedness, when they get out of here.

If.

Before they leave, Taeyong insists they choose a tree.

_ Renjun Jeno Donghyuck Jaemin _

He leaves the names scratched into the bark and the bodies laying on the ground, but the hurt in his heart he knows he will carry with him forever.

Everything spirals faster and faster from there. 

Taeyong is grasping onto Jaehyun’s hand again as they walk. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Jaehyun is barely bending his knees as he walks, letting himself tip over and then catch himself, stumbling along. “...You okay, Jae?”

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, just simply raises their hands to chin level and drops a kiss on the back of Taeyong’s hand before letting it go and moving up ahead.

Taeyong stares at the path in front of him and decides not to bring up how Jaehyun’s fingertips were stained a slight blue.

An hour into walking again, Jungwoo stops short. He’s bent over, bracing his hands against his knees, and breathing hard.

“Jungwoo?” Taeyong hovers over him nervously. “Are you okay, baby?”

Jungwoo doesn’t reply. His clothes are drenched in sweat, and he’s shaking profusely, his limbs twitching and body unsteady. With a guttural groan, he collapses to the ground. 

“Jungwoo!” Yuta screeches, hauling the boy up by his shirt. Jungwoo’s head hangs back, his body boneless and jelly-like in Yuta’s arms. “What the fuck!”

_ ‘I think something bit me back there.’ _

Taeyong dimly remembers the conversation they had the night before. 

_ ‘I just saw this flash of light and then my leg hurt really bad.’ _

Wordlessly, he yanks Jungwoo’s pant leg up, shoving a hand against his mouth to muffle his sobs.

“Oh, Jungwoo…”

Jungwoo’s entire leg is horribly swollen. There’s a pinprick of blood, a little wound where Taeyong supposes he was bitten. The area around it is ragged and inflamed, his skin turning a deathly shade of gray. His thin blue veins protrude through the skin, branching all the way up his leg.

“He told me he something bit him…” Taeyong utters blankly, not believing the scene in front of his eyes. “He-- he told me it wasn’t a big deal!”

Kun is rapidly cycling through all the pressure points on Jungwoo’s body, trying to find a pulse. After a minute, he sits back, horrified. “There’s...nothing…” He stares down at his hands in shock.

Taeyong hangs his head in his hands. Things just keep getting worse and worse. At least no one murdered Jungwoo, right? It was just an unfortunate accident…

Right?

The images of Jungwoo in Jaehyun’s strange phone flash in Taeyong’s mind.

Right?

Taeyong doesn’t know anything anymore. He weaves a crown of wildflowers in mourning and gently lays it atop Jungwoo’s head. They leave him in a patch of flowers, arms crossed over his chest and wound covered.

There are only five of them left, not including Taeyong. Dappled sunlight shines through the trees. The birds sing, the day is slowly growing warmer and the skies are clear, and it’s the worst day of Taeyong’s life. He’s gone far, far away, a place where no one can touch him or his boys. He sees the squirrel run across their path, but he doesn’t really see it. He sees the branches rustling above their heads, but he doesn’t really see them. He sees the blood staining his hands, but he doesn’t really see it.

Right?

Taeyong is losing his mind.

He dissociates badly, his vision fogging up and his balance thrown out of whack, until he slowly registers the changing terrain under their feet. Every step seems more delicate, more fragile. The trees are thinning out, allowing more sunlight to catch him in the eyes. The ground is starting to feel rockier, a little crumbly.

“Taeyong, watch out!” Yuta grabs him by the back of the jacket, tugging him backwards. Taeyong lands on his ass, staring at the gaping cliff in front of his eyes. The drop looks insanely high, the ground unstable. Taeyong watches as a slab of rock on the edge of the cliff, just a few feet away from Taeyong, falls to pieces over the drop. He trips over himself trying to get away.

“What,” Taeyong wheezes, hand on his chest, “the _ fuck_? Where even are we? How is this in the middle of a goddamn forest by a theme park?”

No one responds.

“Sicheng…?” Doyoung says uncertainly. “Sicheng, are you okay?”

Sicheng’s body is completely rigid, his face slack and eyes dead. He’s sweating, eyes twitching.

“A Husk…?” Jaehyun whispers. He isn’t looking at any of them. He slides behind a tree and sinks to the ground, weeping into his hands as his body twitches and trembles, hands scribbling patterns into the dusty dirt.

“What the fuck do you mean!” Yuta demands, eyes widening in horror. He shakes Sicheng once, twice, to no response. “What do you mean he’s a H-Husk? How did that happen, I was right beside him the whole time!” Yuta gently caresses Sicheng’s cheek. “Sicheng? Baby? Please, I know you’re in there!”

For a brief moment there is a spark in Sicheng’s eyes. He pushes Yuta’s hands off of him, and takes a single step forward, bringing his feet together. Slowly, slowly, he takes another step. He continues at this stilted, uncomfortable pace for a few seconds.

“He’s heading toward the edge.” Kun says, “He’s heading towards the edge! _ Sicheng_!”

Kun rushes after the hypnotized boy, pulling on his arm to try to halt his movements, but Sicheng does not budge. With inhuman resilience, Sicheng continues steadily as if Kun, who isn’t weak by any means, is nothing more an a pestering fly.

“Sicheng, stop!” Kun begs, refusing to give up. He swivels in front of Sicheng, heels sticking out into the open air, in hopes of making him stop. He does stop, for a brief moment. Sicheng looks Kun in the eyes and links their hands, a soft smile on his face.

“That’s it.” Kun breaths, relief shining in his eyes. “That’s it, honey, now just turn around. You’ll be okay, w-we can snap you out of this!”

Sicheng closes his eyes and squeezes Kun’s hand, before plunging the two of them over the side of the cliff.

“_NO!” _Yuta screams bloody murder, scrambling after the two. He nearly flings himself over the edge trying to grasp the tails of Sicheng’s jacket, but it’s too late. It’s Taeyong’s turn to restrain Yuta as he wails and wails, trying to kick Taeyong off and go after his love and his brother.

Taeyong covers Yuta’s ears so he won’t have to hear the sickening crunch of the duo hitting the ground far, far beneath them. “I’m sorry, Yuta.” He cries, “I’m so, so sorry!”

Yuta’s struggling dies down as he dissolves into tears in Taeyong’s arms. “I never got to tell him-- really, _ really _ tell him how much I loved him!” 

The anguish tears through Taeyong’s heart, leaving nothing but blood and sliced arteries dripping through his ribs.

“A-And Kun, we trusted him with everything. He-- we never got to-- we never got to tell him how much he did for us!” Yuta’s words are cut off by his sobs, hiding his face in Taeyong’s shoulders. “_ Come back!” _

Doyoung is standing as far back as he can, mouth hanging open and hands spread over his face. “I can’t believe this…” He whimpers, crashing to his knees.

Yuta abruptly quiets. His voice, muffled by Taeyong’s jacket, comes out low and scratchy, filled with fire. “_You _ can’t believe this? That’s rich.” Yuta spits, slowly picking himself off the ground. Taeyong sits with his knees drawn into his chest. Everyone looks like they’re moving in slow motion, trailing figures swooping across his vision until he can’t tell reality from the stress induced hallucinations.

“How _ dare _ you say that,” Yuta lumbers toward Doyoung, gaze dark and heavy. “When you’re the reason they _ died! _” Yuta’s neck snaps up, glaring Doyoung directly in the eye.

“What?” Doyoung brings his hands up in surrender. “What did I do?”

“You led us here!” Yuta seethes, “You intentionally lead us to this fucking cliff and then mind controlled the love of my life to kill himself and Kun! You wanted them to die!” Yuta advances further, backing Doyoung up against a tree until their noses are inches away. “_This is all your fault!” _

With a feral scream, Yuta vaults himself at Doyoung, hands striking every inch of flesh they can.

“I didn’t-- do-- _ anything!_” Doyoung squeezes out between hits, trying to dodge the blows. “I would never want to hurt them! This was all a huge mistake!”

Taeyong snaps out of his shock and lunges after the warring pair, trying in vain to pull Yuta off. Yuta resists with an unnatural strength, mercilessly beating Doyoung down. His veins are sticking out, blood running down his knuckles.

Yuta’s hands land around Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung’s legs thrash, kicking out at Yuta, but no amount of beating will make Yuta relinquish even an inch.

“_S-Stop!” _ Doyoung gasps for breath, his fighting growing weaker and weaker as his limbs lose strength. “Please!”

Yuta keeps one hand pinning Doyoung’s neck to the tree, the other one releasing only so Yuta can jab his elbow directly into Taeyong’s gut, throwing him to the opposite side. He skitters towards the edge. 

“_Jaehyun!” _ He screams as he feels the ground start to give way. Where the fuck did Jaehyun even go?

Speak of the devil and he appears.

Jaehyun materializes out of seemingly nowhere, stopping a foot away from Taeyong. He looms over him, watching passively as he slips closer and closer to oblivion.

“Jae, h-help me up!” Taeyong’s fingers scrabble for purchase in the shifting dirt. “Help!”

Jaehyun’s eyes are cold and emotionless as he stares Taeyong down. Behind them, Doyoung lets out a choking scream, voice strained by lack of oxygen. Taeyong slips further down, arms trembling from the effort.

“_Please!” _

Jaehyun eyes widen as his body lurches forward a little bit, shoulders slumping as if something had just let go of him. Without wasting another moment, he hauls Taeyong up and cradles him close to his chest. “I’m sorry, oh my god I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorr--”

“Move! We have to help them!” Taeyong cuts Jaehyun off, not caring about what Jaehyun has to say at the moment. He’ll deal with that fucking weird situation later, when two of his boys aren’t about to kill each other.

It’s already too late. Yuta is still squeezing, but Doyoung’s eyes have fallen shut, his body flopping around.

“Yuta, please. Please, think about what you’re doing!” Taeyong begs. Yuta releases Doyoung and he thumps lifelessly to the ground. Yuta folds in on himself, opening his jaw impossibly wide and letting out an ugly, animal screech. 

“_YOU ALL MUST DIE!” _ He screams, but the words come out garbled and distorted, like something malevolent is speaking through him. The veins on his face and neck look like they’re about to burst, his eyes glassy and unseeing. “_DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!” _

Taeyong sobs wordlessly as Yuta’s chin drops to his chest, blood dripping from his mouth as he mutters to himself over and over. He’s coming closer.

“Yuta…”

With an equally rough, jumbled scream, Jaehyun launches himself between Yuta and Taeyong, backhanding Yuta sharply. The boy is stunned, life returning to his eyes as he teeters, just an instant before his momentum carries him off the side.

“Oh my god.” Taeyong whispers to himself, his hands gripping his hair and pulling sharply. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, just scoops Taeyong up and deposits him back on his feet, leading him by the hand back into the thick of the woods. Taeyong is quivering, completely retreating within himself. He can’t do this. He can’t handle this.

He’s failed each and every single person who has trusted him. He let his boys, his babies, his fucking family _ die _. He couldn’t save anyone. He couldn’t protect anyone. Everything Taeyong thought he knew about himself, about his brothers, about the world, shatters in that moment. He’s lost everything, lost everyone.

Except one.

He gaze falls to the boy holding his hand. Taeyong’s feet aren’t quite keeping up, constantly slipping out from under his body, but he’s only moving because Jaehyun is pulling him along.

“Your fingers are blue.” Taeyong rasps. There’s no inflection in his words. Jaehyun doesn’t reply, instead tugging him faster and faster until they’re nearly running. Taeyong has no idea where the fuck Jaehyun thinks he’s going, or why they’re moving with such purpose, but he slows down soon enough. All energy is sapped from his posture, arms hanging dead by his side as he shuffles through the woods.

Taeyong feels nothing but his heart splintering in his chest the further they walk from their boys’ corpses. He loses all grip on time. They could be walking for minutes, or for days as far as Taeyong can tell. All his senses become numbed out of grief and shock. He can’t feel the hunger clawing at his belly, he can’t feel the exhaustion pounding behind his eyelids, he can’t see his feet moving in front of his eyes. There’s a ringing in his ears he just can’t shake out, his vision flickering like an old damaged film. He watches as if looking through someone else’s eyes.

At long last, they spy a break in the trees.

“We were so close, after all.” Taeyong whispers brokenly.

Finally, _ finally _ Taeyong and Jaehyun breach the thick layer of woods flanking the wide gravel road. It looks well travelled, thank god. He looks up and down, searching for cars to flag down. 

His gaze lands on Jaehyun’s tear stained face.

“Jae,” Taeyong whimpers, relief barely masking the pain in his eyes, “We made it. We’re going to be okay.”

Jaehyun has blood crusted under his nose and on the sides of his mouth. His skin is pale and sickly as he heaves, breath sputtering. His veins are clearly visible, sweaty hair matted to his forehead.

“Y-You’re so ill...We’re going to get you help, okay?” Taeyong cups Jaehyun’s jaw in his left hand, thumb gently skimming the dried blood near his mouth. “Trust me. You’ll be okay.”

Jaehyun jerkily pulls Taeyong close to his chest, unable to speak. Taeyong feels tears dripping onto his hair. He tries to lean back to see if Jaehyun is okay, but the other boy just sweeps him into a long, passionate kiss.

Jaehyun tastes like blood and sadness and regret and--

And _ goodbyes. _

Taeyong closes his eyes and lets himself melt into the kiss as Jaehyun’s motions grow odder and odder, his lips becoming cold and stiff against Taeyong’s. The rumble of an engine sounds in the distance, rapidly approaching. Taeyong tries again to break the kiss, tell Jaehyun that help is coming, that they need to flag down that car, but Jaehyun keeps a firm grip on his shoulders, their lips locked.

Until suddenly, they aren’t.

“I’m so sorry, Taeyong.” He rasps brokenly. “I love you.”

“Always.”

Something unnatural and evil flashes in his eyes as Jaehyun snaps, shoving Taeyong away from him and sending him flying into the road.

The last thing Taeyong knows is a bright flash of headlights, squealing tires, and the sound of someone screaming.

  
  
  
  


**B A D E N D**

  


_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 36](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745126) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	31. thirty-one.

_ RESTRAIN _

_ → Selected! _

“Yuta…” Taeyong breathes, heart seizing in his chest. He struggles for words, caught between screaming his lungs out in grief and attacking the boy, ripping him limb from limb to make him pay for his sins.

His gaze strays to the bodies lying prone on the rocky ground. He can only pray that they’re alive, but praying doesn’t do them any good right now. The heavens have left him to rot.

Taeyong has to act.

Body tensed in preparation for any sudden moves from Yuta, he scuffs his shoe back, sending rocks clattering back towards his group. He can only hope at least one person woke up as he inches towards Yuta.

Yuta doesn’t move a single muscle, staring at Taeyong with empty eyes, vacant gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder. Taeyong shivers. Yuta is looking straight through him, mouth slack and hanging open.

“Help!”

Yuta doesn’t move when Taeyong tackles him, bashing his head into the bloody gravel. He doesn’t whimper when Taeyong yanks his arms behind his back. He doesn’t even blink when Taeyong presses a foot between his shoulder blades, forcing gritty dirt into his mouth as he’s shoved further into the uneven ground.

He doesn’t say a word.

New hands cinch Yuta’s wrists together, edging Taeyong out of the way. Taeyong gratefully lets himself roll off Yuta, vision blurring with tears as he hits the ground. It knocks the breath out of him, leaving him to stare dizzily into the night sky.

He swears the stars blink out, one by one.

He can just make out Jungwoo’s thin frame restraining Yuta as Taeil yanks the boy onto his knees. It makes sense. They always were the lightest sleepers of the bunch, aside from...

Yuta doesn’t make a sound, but he’s shivering.

“Taeyong…” Jungwoo turns to him slowly, gaze roving the scene. His eyes widen with alarm as they catch on the bloodied stick. “Care to explain?”

Taeyong hauls himself onto his hands and knees, choosing not to answer Jungwoo’s question just yet. His head swims. He has more important things to investigate right now.

“Tennie.” He croaks, whining as the rocks scrape his knees. His hand falls into Ten’s outstretched one, fingertips running over the gaudy rings Ten always loved to wear. Taeyong desperately pats at Ten’s cheeks, tries to feel any warmth beneath his skin, tries to ignore the warm liquid trailing out of the hole in his neck.

Ten’s chest is eerily still.

There’s a loud thud. “Oh my god!” Jungwoo yelps. Taeyong doesn’t turn around, but he can guess the sharp intake of breath was from Taeil. The boy’s hands probably tightened, there are likely tears running down his cheeks, but he knows Taeil would not be so careless as to release Yuta, even out of shock. Taeil is reliable like that.

More footsteps pound in their direction, but they fade out of Taeyong’s awareness as he crawls to the next body. “Kun.” He whimpers, brushing damp strands out of his face. Kun looks as pretty as ever, eyes swiped closed and mouth just barely parted.

Taeyong presses an ear to his chest, hysteria rising in his bloodstream. “Kun, Kun, Kun! Baby please wake up, please wake up...p-please…” His fingers fly from Kun’s neck to his wrist to his chest, but to no avail. He can’t find a heartbeat anywhere.

Johnny and Sicheng are no different. The rest of the group clusters behind Taeyong as he’s bent over Sicheng’s body, sobbing apologies meant for only the ears of the departed.

Taeyong rubs his swollen eyes after a few more seconds, drawing himself up. He sniffles, fingers digging into the torn flesh of his knees, but it’s time to be strong now. He can mourn later, when everything is figured out. Right now, his group needs a leader and he needs his family.

“What happened?!” Renjun is sobbing into Jaemin’s neck, Donghyuck pressing close to his side. Renjun’s eyes won’t leave Sicheng.

Taeyong swallows hard. He sends an uneasy glance towards the limp figure still locked in Taeil’s arms. “Yuta.” He starts, and a collective shudder runs through the group as they all turn to look at the trembling boy. 

A rough hand trails up and down Taeyong’s back, rubbing circles into his aching muscles. He nearly screams at the thought of it being one of the many corpses behind him, but only Jaehyun stares back with pained eyes.

Taeyong isn’t entirely convinced he _ isn’t _ a corpse, not with bags that heavy under his eyes and skin so pale and gray.

Jaehyun’s ministrations put him only slightly at ease as he grapples with his explanation. “I woke up to screaming. I saw Yuta standing there, standing over-- over them, with that stick in his hands. I know--” Taeyong pauses, throat dry and scraping. “He killed them.”

Taeyong winces as Jaehyun’s fingers dig sharply into his back.

Yuta doesn’t blink. It’s Taeyong’s word versus his right now, but he doesn’t seem inclined to speak.

“I believe him. I saw it too.” Jungwoo pipes up, and all the gazes shift to him. He squeezes Lucas’s hand and stares firmly into Taeyong’s eyes, nodding slightly. Tentative relief floods Taeyong. He doesn’t know what would’ve happened if Jungwoo wasn’t there to back up his story.

“Yuta?” Chenle asks in a small voice. He’s clutching Jeno’s hand for dear life, cheeks flushed and tears dripping off his chin. Jeno, on the other hand, seems to be seething in anger, barely contained by Mark.

Yuta meets Taeyong’s eyes for the first time. Something tortured flashes into his expression, and he bites down on his lower lip as if forcing something back. Red liquid trickles down his chin to mix with the dried blood splattering his t-shirt.

That blood isn’t his. Taeyong knows this, yet something unsettling creeps into the very bottom of his gut. Something feels off.

Yuta nods his head. It’s a tiny thing, but none of them miss it.

“We...We need to restrain him.” Mark says, voice wobbling. “We should keep him somewhere until morning, until we can get help.”

Yuta doesn’t protest.

“With what?” Donghyuck says slowly, looking pained at the thought of tying Yuta up. It sounds cruel even to Taeyong’s ears, but he’s also looking straight into the glassy eyes of his murdered friends. Surely they can restrain Yuta without a guilty conscience. 

It’s not like it’s for forever, anyways.

Renjun picks up a stray chain from the gravel. It looks like it came from one of the swings, likely snapped off when Jisung…

Taeyong cuts off the thought, letting white noise buzz through his mind as he numbly watches Renjun hand the chain to Taeil. Taeil gulps back the protests on his tongue and helps Lucas chain Yuta to the body of the ride.

Yuta’s head is bowed, body slack and unresponsive as they wrap the bindings around him. The only sign of life is the tears dribbling off the tip of his nose, wetting the rocks beneath him.

Something feels off.

“What do we do now?” Surprisingly, Chenle’s voice doesn’t waver. Taeyong feels a hint of pride glow in his heart. Chenle really is the strongest of all of them.

“What more _ can _ we do?” Jeno grits his teeth. He’s never been one to turn to anger, but Taeyong supposes anything can change a person. “We’ll just have to wait here until morning. It’s too dangerous to move at night.”

Renjun is crouches by Sicheng’s body, dropping a small kiss to his clammy forehead. He does the same to Kun, then straightens up and marches right to the lodge.

“Where are you going?” Jaemin hurries after his boyfriend, worrying at his lip.

“I can’t...I can’t look at them any longer. I’m not sleeping any closer to him than I have to, but I don’t want to let them out of my sight.” Renjun says stiffly, sitting down on the porch and laying his head against the wooden slats of the cabin. “You’re welcome to set up camp wherever you like.”

Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck burrow wordlessly into Renjun, who dissolves into tears. Mark and Chenle trail after them. Mark gently drapes himself over Donghyuck, but Chenle sits a little further apart, closer to Jisung’s side.

Taeyong looks to Jaehyun, who has long since halted his massage. Jaehyun doesn’t meet his eyes.

Neither does Yuta.

Taeyong elects to sleep the closest to the swings ride, unable to fully let go of any of his beloved brothers beyond the fence. He also feels better wedged between his family and any potential...threat.

Perhaps he can repent for failing everyone else.

This time when he falls asleep, exhaustion drags his eyelids firmly shut, all the crying resulting in a terrible headache that pounds away behind his skull. Sleep comes quick and deadly, black smog filling his limbs and whispering soothing lullabies into his shattered heart.

He doesn’t wake to screams. He doesn’t wake to sobs, or shrieking, or pleading, or gurgling. He doesn’t wake to any of that.

He should have.

Rather, Taeyong wakes to hot breath fanning across his face, and the distinct coldness of his hand he swore Jaehyun had been occupying just moments ago. Moments? Hours? What time was it?

Taeyong blearily blinks awake to see bloodshot eyes staring back at him. They’re so close that he can’t make out any other features of the person’s face, nothing but blood dripping like tears from swollen eyes. 

Taeyong’s heart has deserted his chest, scrambling back as the figure continues to advance on his. Breath catching in his throat, his eyes slide to the left. He sees nothing but a mangled, bloody hand, clutching an oval shaped keychain.

_ It’s rather pretty, a smooth, dark brown oval with a slightly pointed end, and a glass circle cut into the middle. The edges are painted with black swirls and pink and red flowers. _

“Chenle…?” Taeyong chokes. “Oh, god!” 

Behind the shadowy figure, he can barely make out other motionless forms, strewn all across the little patio. Taeyong’s hand slips in a slick puddle of something as he skitters back. He refuses to look down.

That’s where Jaehyun was.

“It’s not me.” The figure whispers hoarsely, desperation bleeding from his eyes. He opens his cracked mouth as if to say more, but the words fall on deaf ears.

Something feels off.

Yuta falls away as the rod pierces straight through the back of Taeyong’s neck.

  
  
  
  


**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744238) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	32. thirty-two.

_ DON’T LEAVE JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

“I’m sorry.” Taeyong pulls at a few loose threads on the hem of his jacket. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t leave him.” He looks up at them, eyes glinting defiantly. “There must be another way.”

Renjun exhales slowly. “I understand. I just-- I’m just scared--” Renjun doubles over with a sob, and Donghyuck squeezes his hand fondly. Taeyong threads his fingers through Renjun’s locks, soothing him gently. 

“It’s okay, baby. We get it.” Taeyong straightens up and rests his hands on his hips. “We need to think. How can we cleanse Jaehyun of the demon?” _ And soon, _ Taeyong adds in his head as he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. They’ve been in this forest for god knows how long now, without sufficient food, water, sleep, and shelter. 

They’re running out of time.

Jungwoo sits down heavily against one of the tree trunks, looking dizzy. “I don’t want to leave Jaehyunnie…” He whines softly. 

Doyoung nervously casts his gaze towards the body tied to the tree. “‘...I’ll go get our backpacks then.”

Doyoung and Jaemin come back laden with bags, depositing them around the new campsite. Taeyong checks. Jaehyun is out cold.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm.” Jeno claps his hands together. “We need to get this thing out of Jaehyun. Any ideas?”

Silence rings throughout the space. “Good start, guys.” Jeno deadpans.

“If we want to take it out of him, shouldn’t we figure out where Jaehyun picked up a _ fucking demon _in the first place?” Donghyuck proposes. 

_ Jaehyun was in the room with us, but didn’t want to play. I think that was a bad idea. Would you play with us, Taeyong? _

“...Chenle and Jisung had a ouija board.” Taeyong says suddenly, mind whirring. “They used it while Jaehyun was in the room but didn’t tell him. You aren’t supposed to be near the board if you aren’t playing it-- that’s how the spirit took hold of him. Jae...Jae told me.”

Jaemin blows air out of his nose in frustration. “You knew all of this since when?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer, his thoughts racing a million miles an hour. The ouija board caused this. How in the hell are they supposed to reverse it?

“They must not have ended the session correctly. If a demon catches a hold of your board, aren’t you supposed to destroy it to close the portal?” Donghyuck taps his finger against his chin in thought. “I’m still new to the whole spirit business, but I think you have to burn it or break it into pieces.”

“No, don’t you bury it?” says Jaemin, eyes lighting up. “I watch a lot of dumb horror Youtubers and they’re always burying their boards left and right.”

“Ugh, I dunno. Maybe.”

“Well that’s swell, guys, but need I remind you that we _ don’t _ have the board?” Kun stresses. “Is there some sort of cleansing ritual we can do instead, until we get home and can find the damned thing?”

Donghyuck and Jaemin shrug. Even if there was some sort of ritual, it would probably involve chants or candles or holy water or whatever the fuck they probably don’t have.

“Okay, break.” Taeyong calls, noticing the beads of sweat breaking out over his stressed boys’ faces. “Relax, think on it, and we’ll regroup and talk.”

Taeyong can’t bear to face Jaehyun right now. He turns his back and sits by the pile of backpacks, organizing and reorganizing methodically. 

There must be another way. There must be something they’re missing.

Taeyong plants his face in his knees. He feels someone plop down next to him.

“We’ll figure it out.” Jungwoo says quietly, knocking shoulders with him before gliding off. “I trust you.”

Taeyong shudders.

_ Put your mind to use, Taeyong. Don’t waste your precious time, _Taeyong scolds himself. After about half an hour of not moving, he decides to unpack some their backpacks to assess their resources. They’ve been lugging around the bags of some of the members they’ve lost-- they already had Lucas’s from after the ride, and Chenle, Ten, Jisung, and Mark all left theirs behind-- because it’s likely that there’s food or water in them that the rest of them could use now. He sifts through water bottles, rain jackets, and yes, some granola bars and little quick snacks. 

Numbly, he starts to go through their stuff, transferring the usable contents to his backpack. It feels uncomfortably like grave robbing, but it has to be done. He can’t just let food for his boys go to waste because he doesn’t want to touch their departed members things.

No matter how much it hurts, his boys come first.

Taeyong gets to Chenle’s old bag and his heart clenches painfully. He sighs and unzips the first compartment of the backpack. He slides his hand down and grasps at whatever is in there. He pulls out a standard water bottle, half empty, and a few crumpled up pieces of paper. He squints at it. Math homework? Ah, Chenle must have taken his school bag-- that explains the ridiculous size of the bag. Taeyong’s fingers brush crumbs after that, and he starts to take his hand out when he suddenly feels smooth wood underneath the pads of his fingers.

“What in the world…?”

Hidden all folded up in the laptop compartment of Chenle’s backpack is a thin board. With unsteady hands, Taeyong hesitantly reaches out, laying his palm flat on the slab of wood. Carefully, he unfolds it.

“Oh, Lele…” Taeyong breathes. 

Laid out in front of him is a sizable ouija board, the letters and numbers painted in dripping black. The image of a wolf, eyes gleaming, stares down Taeyong from the center of the board. He swears he can see it blink.

“Where the fuck did you get that?!” Yuta screeches from over his shoulder. The yelp attracts the boys from all corners of the clearing, quick feet padding against the leaves.

“It was in Lele’s backpack.” Taeyong registers that he said the words, but he doesn’t feel his mouth move, doesn’t feel the vibrations from his throat. All this time, Chenle was carrying around the very thing that killed him. He didn’t understand the legends, the warnings, the dangers.

Renjun brings his index finger near the face of the board, hovering right over the wolf’s eye, but snatches it back quickly. “Oh, I _ hate _ this.”

Doyoung rubs at his chin. “Okay...so we have the board now. We bury it and the phone, containing the demon and sealing it away, and we should be good, right?”

Sicheng worries at his lip. “Don’t you need a planchette to play the ouija board? We’d need to destroy them both to finish the job.”

Jungwoo crouches next to Taeyong, running nimble fingers over Chenle’s empty bag. His hands come to rest on Chenle’s keychain, lifting it up slightly to catch the light. It glints menacingly. “You mean this?”

Taeyong feels like the world has been tugged out from under his feet. Of course. Of _ course _ that pretty little keychain Chenle put together would be a fucking ouija board planchette. He feels betrayal crushing his heart flat in his chest. The little oval of wood with the swirling flowers. The keychain with Jisung’s suicide note scratched into the back. His last memento of his youngest babies.

Of course the universe has to take one more thing from him.

Taeyong closes his eyes and unclips the keychain from the bag with trembling fingers. “Okay,” He says, voice shaking. “Okay. Let’s finish this.”

Donghyuck gently lays the planchette onto the board, gliding it in a small circle around the middle and slowly sliding it to ‘goodbye’. “We do not wish to contact you anymore.” He hisses sternly, moving the planchette off the board. “Goodbye.”

Taeyong immediately turns all his attention to the shivering form beside him. “Jae…?” He brings his hands closer to Jaehyun’s face, praying.

_ Please let it be over. Please let him be free. _

Jaehyun doesn’t respond for a full two minutes. Slowly, his fingers start to twitch, the muscles in his jaw jumping. Taeyong breathes slowly as the seconds tick by.

_ Please. _

Jaehyun’s head snaps up, eyes bloodshot. His mangled mouth drops open a bit, a garbled scream wracking his body. Taeyong trips over himself to push the other boys away from Jaehyun as the poor boy shrieks and convulses, spitting blood.

After a few seconds all the fight drains out of Jaehuyn’s frame. He stutters and goes limp against his bindings.

“Jae?” Taeyong inches closer to him, heart pounding. Jaehyun’s eyes open blearily. There’s something a little clearer about them this time, the tension melting away from his muscles. He still looks pretty sickly-- they all do, after the malnourishment of being stranded in a forest for so long, but there’s a healthy flush spreading across his cheeks.

“_Thank you_.” Jaehyun says, or at least he tries to say. He whimpers in pain at the effort, but Taeyong can understand the intent enough. Taeyong squeezes his hand.

“Always.”

Taeyong watches numbly as Yuta snaps the board over his knee. He breaks it into several pieces, handing a few each to Jaemin and Taeyong.

“Bury them all separately.” Yuta says, his voice hard. “Let’s make this hell impossible to recreate.”

They split into three groups. Jungwoo and Donghyuck stay behind to watch over Jaehyun. Taeyong, Jaemin, and Yuta are to bury the board. Kun and Sicheng head off bury the planchette. Finally, Jeno, Doyoung, and Renjun are tasked with burying the phone. They figured that splitting up would ensure that the pieces are disposed of far enough away from each other that even if someone stumbled upon this obscure neck of the woods, they would never find all three components. 

Taeyong takes a few stumbling steps away from the others, digging his hands into the frozen dirt to hide his first shard of the cursed board. He buries the next under a small tree root, concealing the overturned patch of dirt. A little farther in and he wedges one of the smaller pieces in a hole in a tree trunk, packing it with dirt. They move around the area, meticulously stowing away the pieces. It’s necessary for them to go out of sight of the others in order to make sure everything’s hidden far enough away, but that doesn’t stop Taeyong from repeatedly doubling back to make sure they’re all okay.

Eventually, he’s down to his last piece. Taeyong searches for the most obscure place he can find, eventually settling on climbing a ways into a slightly thorny bush and burying it at the base. The wolf’s eye teases him as the last bit of dirt is thrown over it. Taeyong sits back. The soil is gritty under his nails, his palms stained brown, little imprints of pebbles lining his hands and arms.

He can still feel the weight of the wolf’s gaze boring into his skin.

Taeyong’s heart slows in his chest. His hand moves on its own, drawn towards the fresh dirt. One finger drags through it. He can hear the wolf laughing at him.

“Are you guys done?” Jaemin calls.

Taeyong scrambles back as if burned. He tosses a few large stones on top of the filled up hole and throws himself out of the bush, not allowing himself to look back. Heaving, he looks up to see Jaemin and Yuta gathered a little farther off. “Yeah,” He wheezes, “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Great.” Jaemin cranes his neck back, trying to see through the thick trees. “I don’t know if the others are done yet, but we can head back and see.”

Kun and Sicheng are sitting with Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and Donghyuck when they reach them. The third party isn’t anywhere to be seen, probably needing a little longer to correctly dispose of the phone. Taeyong tries not to chew his fingernails in worry. They’re fine. They just needed to travel far enough to make sure they finish the job right. They’re _ fine. _

They wait anxiously for a few more minutes before the rest come back, covered in filth and grime. Jeno gives them a weak thumbs up.

“It’s over.”

Jungwoo and Donghyuck had given Jaehyun a thorough checking over, dabbing away the blood crusted on his face. Though they deemed him sane and lucid, they decided to wait until everything was buried before freeing him. Now, they work with nimble fingers to undo the restraints. Jaehyun falls into Taeyong’s waiting arms, form trembling a bit. Taeyong rubs softly at the rope burns on his wrist.

“Shall we get going again?” Doyoung suggests, squinting out at the forest. “We don’t have any time to waste.” He receives shaky nods from the group, starting to collect their stuff. Taeyong breaks off from Jaehyun for a moment. It kills him, but he has to take care of the rest of them still. He stuffs the empty bags into his backpack, slinging it on and poking around the clearing to make sure they aren’t leaving any loose ends.

“Let’s go.” He declares, leading Jaehyun by the hand over to Doyoung. Doyoung nods firmly and turns to start on the path again. Taeyong only makes it a few feet before he feels _ something is wrong _tugging in his gut. He pivots on his heel to see Renjun hasn’t joined the rest of them. He stands back by Jaehyun’s bloodied tree, his head bowed.

“I was going to leave you behind.” Renjun mutters, deathly quiet. A loud sob rips out of his throat. “I was going to leave you behind! I’m so-- I’m _ so sorry!” _ He cuts himself off with his cries. Jeno slides his arm around the smaller boy’s waist, Donghyuck pressing gentle kisses to Renjun’s forehead. Jaemin strokes his hair as Renjun wails. 

Jaehyun can’t speak, but he grabs onto Renjun’s hand, warmth in his eyes. _ I forgive you. _

They move back on the path, but this time it feels like something has clicked into place. It just feels _ right_, for once. Hope settles into Taeyong’s heart. After all this, could they really be close to the end?

And they are.

It takes a few more hours, but they finally hit a break in the trees. No one speaks. Jaehyun’s breathing has become worryingly slow, his eyes sliding shut. Taeyong carefully lays him at the side of the road, worry gnawing at him as they wait to flag down a car. 

The sound of the world around him dims and vanishes from view as Taeyong smooths a hand down Jaehyun’s matted bangs, sticky with sweat and blood. Vaguely, he hears Yuta yelling, the flash of headlights bouncing around the dark stretch of road. A motor sputters and cuts out, a foreign man’s voice cutting into Taeyong’s head. Someone dials a phone. Taeyong tries to make sure Jaehyun is still breathing.

Sicheng’s blurry face comes into Taeyong’s vision, throwing himself on top of him. “We made it.” Sicheng mumbles but there’s no relief in his voice. Tears pour down Taeyong’s face. He doesn’t know if it’s happiness, grief, or stress, or maybe all three. He barely registers the voice of the first responders, only grounding himself enough to speak rationally to them once they whisk Jaehyun into an ambulance.

They’re released from the hospital a week later.

Jaehyun doesn’t remember most of it. The killings are all blacked out for him, all he felt is a loss of control, and then overwhelming guilt. He could piece it together what he did, but not the _ who _ or _ why _ or _ how _ or _ when _ or _ what the fuck. _

He may not remember, but his subconscious sure does. Many times a night Taeyong will wake up to Jaehyun thrashing, screaming, crying in his sleep. Each time Taeyong rolls over and throws an arm over Jaehyun, singing to him softly to calm him down.

Jaehyun doesn’t remember the night terrors, either.

Everyone struggles in their own ways. They’ve done everything they could think of to honor their fallen brothers-- scholarship funds, memorials, little plaques and charity donations and all the things their brothers would have wanted. 

The police recovered all the bodies. They’re buried side by side. The remaining stop by weekly to chat and catch up, and lay fresh flowers on their graves. Donghyuck leaves pages of lyrics tucked underneath a stone by Mark’s grave. Taeyong isn’t sure whether they’re love songs or diss tracks, but if Donghyuck proclaims that Mark needs them or else he’ll be hella bored and uninspired in the afterlife, then so be it.

It hurts, but there’s something to be said about closure. Healing is a long, long process, but no matter what, they are still a family. Family sticks together.

Six months after the incident, Taeyong takes them to the beach. He’s scared to leave the house but he would do anything to see his family smile again, to watch them laugh freely and play and be _ kids _ again.

He’s tired of seeing the dark bags drag down Renjun’s face, how Jaemin is unable to get any sleep despite sleeping smushed up against his three maybe-boyfriends (they’re unlabelled), how Jungwoo lays unmoving for hours, staring at the framed photo of him and Lucas up on their wall.

They’ve all grown up much too fast.

Taeyong slathers them in sunscreen because of course he does, and sends them off. He takes out a book and sits underneath the umbrella, paging through it quickly. He can’t focus, always glancing up and checking to make sure everything is okay. Always checking, checking, checking. 

At first his boys are hesitant, not a toe daring to skim the water in front of them. Then Donghyuck dips a hand down and sends a wave crashing at Kun, and it feels like a dam bursts. The tension and anxiety washes away from them as they splash and laugh. 

Sicheng and Yuta are gathered by one of the tidal pools. Sicheng crouches down and emerges with a little crab perched in his palm. He giggles at it in delight, a smile breaking out over Yuta’s face as well. Jeno is submerged in the water. After a few seconds he shoots up, hoisting Renjun up onto his shoulders. Jaemin does the same with Donghyuck and they start up a chicken fight, hands and arms flailing as they try to push the other team over. Kun wades out a little bit to be referee, making an impressive whistling imitation. Jungwoo and Doyoung are huddled a ways off from them, building an elaborate sand castle.

Taeyong breathes carefully. He’s glad to see them happy again-- well, the closest to happiness that they’ve been in a while-- but he can’t help but feel that it’s too good to be true. His eyes dart around nervously. What if one of them drown? What if they get cut on a shell or stung by a dangerous animal? What if--

Jaehyun’s hand winds around his, trailing a hand down his back. There’s scars by his mouth but he’s still beautiful, warm brown eyes reflecting the sun. “Breathe.” Jaehyun whispers into Taeyong’s ear.

And so he does.

  


**G O O D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 39](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745153#workskin) _

  
  
_[END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396)_


	33. thirty-three.

hi, congrats for finding this easter egg! hope you’re liking the au ;)

for the first person to claim this prize, feel free to add a route of your choice. leave a comment on the chapter with the fork that you want to add an extra option to and include the code ‘lemon drop’ somewhere in it just 4 fun. you can either message me with the new command, tell me specific things you want to happen in the route, tell me how you want it to end, etc. i’m cool with however you want it-- pairings, deaths, introduced characters, etc. i just won’t write smut!

  
  


as a general little prize for finding this hidden corner feel free to go and request a drabble on my curiouscat <3 


	34. thirty-four.

_ TELL SOMEONE _

_ → Selected! _

  


**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

  
  


_ BACK. _

_ [→ Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744427) _


	35. thirty-five.

_ CONVINCE THEM TO STAY _

_ → Good luck. _

“Please.” Taeyong whispers. “You all know me. You’ve all grown up with me-- why would I do _ anything _like that to you? After all we’ve been through?”

No one responds, so Taeyong plows onward, begging.

“I just want all of you safe.” He gazes imploringly into the eyes of anyone who will look his way, voice cracking with emotion. “Please, trust me.” 

_ If there was ever a time for you to repay what I’ve done for you, it’s now. _

Yuta sighs, fists unfurling. “I don’t know…” Low mumblings erupt in the room, each member distrustful of the others. Taeyong’s heart squeezes. This is no way to run a group. Maybe he should’ve left them alone, after all. At least giving them a common enemy would unite them.

“I trust you.” Mark is the first one to step out of the fray, his voice cutting above the rest. His hand sticks out in front of Taeyong’s face. He takes it hesitantly, and Mark heaves him onto his feet, pulling him into a hug. “You’ve practically raised me since I was young. _ I trust you_.” He breathes into Taeyong’s ear, Taeyong crumbling on the spot.

He doesn’t deserve Mark’s trust.

Jeno, surprisingly, is the next one to step forward. He doesn’t say anything, just clutches onto Taeyong’s hand. Everything he could have said is clearly reflected in the conviction in his eyes.

One by one, each member breaks down in Taeyong’s arms.

“M’sorry we doubted you.” Jisung mumbles into his shoulder, probably reminiscing on the days Taeyong would make lunch for him before school, when they would go over his assignments together, when Taeyong would step in for important meetings or drive him places. He ruffles the boy’s hair softly, unable to speak lest he burst into more tears.

Sicheng is the last one to cave, biting his lip as anxiety churns behind his eyes. Taeyong opens his arms to him. After a few charged seconds, the younger boy falls into them, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I know it’s not you.” He hiccups. “We just needed a plan. We...we needed_ something. _” 

_ I could never blame you. _Taeyong whispers his reassurances into Sicheng’s ear as he pets his hair fondly.

“What now…? We can’t stay here, can we?” Yuta chews on his lip, looking pensive. Taeyong rubs the back of his neck. That’s true. Clearly the lodge isn’t safe enough, isn’t secure enough to avoid someone getting in-- or out.

“We should move.” Taeyong croaks after a while, barely trusting his own voice. Jaehyun grips harder onto his hand as they prepare to leave. Taeyong looks over at him, a hint of hurt blossoming in his chest. For a minute there, no matter how long, Jaehyun didn’t trust him. The one person he thought he could always count on, turned against him. Taeyong can’t pretend like that didn’t destroy him, just a bit.

Renjun eventually finds a place a little ways away from the Great Bear Lodge. It’s not quite a lodge, but rather a small resting area; it’s just large enough to shelter them for a bit. Hopefully they can keep an eye on each other easier there.

The walk is silent save for the crunching of their feet against the leaves littering the ground. 

Taeyong helps the others settle into the new ‘lodge’ watching his back with every move. He sits cross legged on the floor, staring into space as images of that day haunts him.

Everywhere he looks, a dark shape, gleaming knife by its side, slinks just out of his peripheral vision.

Donghyuck plops down heavily next to Taeyong, looking like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders. “Do you think we’re going to get out of here alive? Be honest.” His voice is blank, devoid of all emotion. Taeyong’s heart breaks to see one of their youngest, their brightest sun, so bogged down by all the tragedy. He tries to muster up a convincing looking smile, rubbing Donghyuck’s shoulder blade comfortingly.

“Of course. We’ll be okay.” Taeyong says, cursing himself in his head as his voice wavers on the last word.

_ “It’ll be okay, Jungwoo.” Taeyong says, pressing Jungwoo’s forehead into his chest as his arms come up to wrap around the boy’s lithe frame. “I know you’re worried about him, but it’ll be all work out. Trust me.” _

Donghyuck nuzzles into his chest a bit, not bothering to respond for a minute. “I hope you’re right.” His small voice barely reaches Taeyong’s ears.

The vulnerable boy eventually wanders off in search of the other dreamies, preparing to sleep in one big pile. Taeyong knows they need each other close right now.

Feeling a little trapped by the stuffy atmosphere, Taeyong excuses himself to the nearest bathroom building, which isn’t far from the resting stop. 

As expected, it’s empty, and not nearly as well kept as the one closer to the entrance to the park. Taeyong grips onto the rim of the grimy sink, staring deep into his reflection. His fingertips travel over his gaunt, gray cheeks, pull at the bruised skin under his eyes. That can’t be him-- he can’t possibly look that..._ dead, _right?

Taeyong blinks and he’s back in the funhouse, Chenle’s corpse slumped to his right. _ Game over,_ Chenle wails but his mouth doesn’t move.

Taeyong blinks and Chenle is gone, Kun replacing his own reflection. Kun doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly screams and screams and screams, jaw all smashed up.

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, doubling over the sink as he feels his stomach churn. “Stop…” He moans, fisting his hands in his hair. “Stop! Stop talking!”

_ You don’t get to make demands here. _ Ten clicks his tongue at him, voice garbled by the blood dripping from his mouth. _ This isn’t your game. _

“Leave me alone! Leave us _ alone!” _ Taeyong spits angrily at the mirror, chest heaving. His bloodshot eyes are the only things that meet his gaze.

Taeyong sighs heavily, tracing the veins standing out against his pale skin. There’s something in his head. There’s something in his head, and he can’t get it out.

“Maybe I am a danger to them.” He muses, nails digging into the sensitive skin. “I need to end this. I can’t let them live in fear anymore.”

_ If they live. _ Jaemin bites.

Taeyong looks up at himself in the mirror, ice flooding his veins at the figure looming behind him.

_ Taeyong’s terrified eyes track it slowly, scanning from the bottom up. He can’t move. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. _

Anger bubbles up in his chest as he watches the figure, their head bowed and face hidden, knife glittering by their side. “You.” He seethes, heart speeding up in his chest. 

_ He’s going to find them, and he’s going to kill them. _

The figure slowly lifts his chin, meeting Taeyong’s gaze in the mirror. Taeyong’s fists clench impossibly tight by his sides, rage reaching a boiling point. This is it. 

This is where it ends.

“_No!” _

Jaehyun stares back with empty eyes.

** _ [KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285) _ **

** _ [KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285) _ **

** _ [KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285) _ **

**_[KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285)_**

_ ** **[KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285)**** _

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_ ** ** ** ** ** [KILL JAEHYUN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285) ** ** ** ** ** _

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_ [→ Chapter 49](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745285) _


	36. thirty-six.

_ SAVE JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

_ I can’t let my anchor sink. _

Taeyong gulps and lunges for Jaehyun’s arm, which he can just barely see poking out of the water. The waves lap at the boy’s cheeks, his forehead only slightly visible above the churning waters.

“Jae!_” _ His screams are garbled by the water rushing in and out of his mouth. “_Jae! Hang on!” _

He’ll come back for Chenle. He will.

Jaehyun’s hand disappears under the waves again. Taeyong gasps for breath, swimming as hard as he can. The wind whipping around the waters forces it up into unruly, irregular waves, currents swirling and latching onto his feet. Taeyong ends up right over where he thinks Jaehyun’s body should be, and he looks down. Oh, god.

The lake is deep and looks bottomless. From what he can see, it stretches for dozens and dozens of yard down. Instead of a normal, shallow lake where long tendrils of grass reach up to stroke your feet while you swim, tangling you up in their sticky grasp, Taeyong feels the bite of nothingness underneath him, terror swirling in his gut.

This lake is a goddamn abyss.

He dives down, limbs flailing in hopes of making contact with Jaehyun’s body. The first dive yields nothing, and he forces himself up above the choppy surface, spluttering and gasping. “Fuck!” He plunges himself back into the depths, and this time his wrist hits a shoulder. Taeyong tries to squeeze his eyes open, peering through the murky water. His eyes sting with the effort, but it pays off. He can just barely see Jaehyun drifting downwards. 

His limbs are limp and floating in front of him, his hair rippling as he moves further underwater. Taeyong swivels his wrist so he can grab onto Jaehyun’s shoulder, looping one arm around his waist. He kicks his legs as hard as he can, trying to get them back up before it’s too late-- for both of them.

He shudders. Jaehyun’s arm around his neck, Taeyong holding him by the waist, Jaehyun’s forehead falling into the crook of Taeyong’s neck...This feels almost exactly like all the nights they’ve spent cuddled up in a too small bed in one of their dorm rooms, limbs tangled impossibly, breathing as one.

This time, only one of them is breathing.

Taeyong breaks the surface. His chest heaves, trying to expel the water he swallowed on the way down. He snaps his gaze to Jaehyun. The boy’s head is rolling limply on his shoulders. His face is stained blue. Treading water as Taeyong tries to regain his strength, he presses an ear to Jaehyun’s chest.

Nothing.

“_Jae!” _ He sobs, weakly beating on the boy’s chest. “_Don’t leave me!” _

“Taeyong!” Someone screams from the beach. Already swimming again, lungs burning, Taeyong turns towards the noise. Thank god, thank god! Doyoung and Sicheng are wading into the water to help.

Taeyong crosses the distance over to the shore by some goddamn miracle, Jaehyun still in his arms. He throws Jaehyun to Doyoung and Sicheng and drags himself up the lip of the bank and onto the rocky shore, gasping for his life.

He watches with his vision cloudy from lack of oxygen as Sicheng leans down and connects his lips to Jaehyun’s, pushing on his chest in rhythm.

_ Please, please. _ Taeyong is barely lucid at this point, rolling onto his side to cough up more water.

Finally, after a few minutes of even chest compressions, Jaehyun turns and starts throwing up water, his chest contracting unbelievably. Yuta helps Taeyong sit up, one hand on his back.

“Jae…” Taeyong wheezes, moving a hand to cover Jaehyun’s shaking one. They’re both sopping wet and shivering from the frigid waters. He’s stopped in his tracks by a tiny, terrified voice.

“W-Where’s Chenle?” Jisung stands on the edge of the trees, looking down at the tearful reunion below him.

Oh, no. Oh no no no no _ no no no Chenle is still in there! _

Taeyong staggers to his feet, hand pressed to his chest. He whips his head back to the lake. 

It’s completely calm.

“_Chenle!” _ Taeyong wails, not thinking twice before throwing himself back into the water.

“Taeyong, what the fuck! _ You’re injured!” _ is all he hears, courtesy of an angry Doyoung, before his ears sink below the surface again. He’s half delirious, unsure of where he jumped or where Chenle even is.

_ Please be okay please be okay please be okay! _

Taeyong splashes around in the water. He can’t feel anything. God, his limbs are so numb and no matter how wide of an arc he flings them in, no matter how hard he kicks his legs, he can’t feel anything, he can’t see anything, he can’t do _ anything _to save his baby.

_ “Lele! Where are you!” _

Taeyong sobs as he dives again and again, the moonlight the only thing remotely grounding him. He swallows mouthful after mouthful of water as he cries, not wanting to give up on his little baby dolphin.

_ I can’t lose another one. _

“Taeyong, stop! You’re going to kill yourself!” Thin arms circle around his waist, dragging Taeyong back as he thrashes.

“Let me go! I need to find him!” Taeyong hits at the arms keeping him captive. “Let me _ go_!”

“No, Taeyong! Lele is...We aren’t getting him back!” Yuta’s voice quivers. “We can’t lose you too.”

“You don’t understand!”

“But I do! Believe me, if you hadn’t done some dumb shit and jumped in first it would’ve been me! But--” Yuta struggles to tread water, trying to restrain Taeyong’s flailing limbs, “But you’re just going to abandon the rest of us like this? Let yourself drown on a futile mission and leave the rest of us alone to die?”

Yuta hiccups through his tears.

“We need you.”

Taeyong takes a long look at the smooth surface of the lake, which is only disrupted by his own struggling. Yuta is right; wherever Chenle is, they aren’t going to find him. Taeyong feels all the fight go out of him, becoming a dead weight in Yuta’s arms as he swims back with Taeyong. He dumps him on the sand once again.

Taeyong is racked with sobs. He lays flat on his back, drenched in disgusting lake water. Gentle fingers extract the moss from his hair, but he doesn’t move.

He lays staring up at the moon, which tsks at him with a disapproving gaze.

_ You’ve failed again, Taeyong. _

_ I know. _

Taeyong doesn’t remember getting up from the sand. He doesn’t remember the feeling of rocks digging into his back, or how shells cut up his hands and knees and feet. He doesn’t remember his deathly low circulation, didn’t notice how gaunt his cheeks looked, how colorless his face was, how dead his eyes were. He doesn’t remember being herded back to the campsite, doesn’t remember a weak Jaehyun squeezing his hand, doesn’t remember Jungwoo’s sweet voice singing him back to sleep.

He doesn’t remember, because he doesn’t _ want _ to remember.

Taeyong wakes up to sun shining in his eyes, blinding him as he blinks blearily. Someone’s idly playing with his hair.

“Oh.” says Jaehyun. “You’re awake.”

“Jae,” Taeyong sits up a little too fast, his head spinning. “Jae!” A wave of relief crashes over him as he flings himself onto the other boy. He nuzzles into his shoulder, pressing his head to Jaehyun’s chest. He hears a steady heartbeat, but still fumbles to find Jaehyun’s pulse below his jaw, on his wrist, fingers flying all over the boy’s body in disbelief. “You’re okay...god, you’re okay!” He wraps his arms around Jaehyun, but Jaehyun’s arms are rigid and stay glued to his sides, not melting into Taeyong’s embrace like he always does.

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun whispers brokenly. “Why did you save me?”

And just like that, the night’s events rush back to him-- Chenle’s vibrant hair disappearing below the surface for the last time, the outstretched hand he never grabbed, the promise he never kept.

“I…” Taeyong falls back in shock. “I tried to save him, I did! Just--”

_ Just not fast enough. _

“I know you did,” Jaehyun fidgets in his seat. “I know, baby. You would have never just let him...go.” Jaehyun reaches out and gathers Taeyong into his arms, but it lacks a certain warmth. Taeyong is so focused on the way Jaehyun’s chest moves, the breath puffed into the air, that he misses the words Jaehyun mumbles into his shoulder.

_ It should’ve been me. _

The boys move around the makeshift campsite like zombies, dragging their feet here and there. None of them want to stay in such close proximity to where they lost another brother, but they don’t have the strength to move on just yet-- in more ways than one.

Taeyong refuses to face the lake. Just the sight of water makes his stomach churn, his head pound and his heart heavy with grief and guilt. He broke his promise. He told Chenle he’d protect him, he’d keep him safe. He failed.

He failed all of them.

Chenle didn’t bleed, but somehow his blood is all Taeyong can see when he looks down at his hands.

“I need to take a walk.” He tells Kun, voice strained. Kun doesn’t show any signs of response, but Taeyong knows he heard him. Kun has barely moved since the news of Chenle’s death. Unlike Taeyong, Kun sits staring into the water, as if he hopes that if he stares long enough, wishes hard enough, he’ll see a hand break through the scummy film covering the surface.

Each time they try to wake up Renjun, he turns and insists on going back to sleep. Taeyong doubts he’s actually falling back to sleep each time, but the longer Renjun can stay in his little bubble, his made up dream world where his baby brother is still around to tease and translate for, the better for him. Probably.

Taeyong turns and disappears into the underbrush. Obviously, he knows not to get too far or get himself lost, but he needs to clear his head. Alone. He keeps the campsite in his line of vision, but strays off to where it’s just barely visible through the skinnier trees that flank the clearing.

There’s nothing but the crunch of leaves and twigs snapping underneath Taeyong’s still drenched shoes, until he hears a sob. Taeyong’s heart rate accelerates-- it can’t be another death, right? Not so soon?

He cups a hand around his ear, trying to locate the source of the crying. It comes again, high pitched and closer to Taeyong’s left ear. Reluctantly, he leaves the campsite behind, but not before marking a small X on a tree so he has a landmark in case he gets lost. He wades deeper and deeper into the woods, until he comes across a small figure crouched on the ground. Taeyong slips behind a tree, leaning half his body out to catch a glimpse of the scene.

Donghyuck has his head nearly pressed to his knees, legs tucked underneath him. He’s crying hard.

“M’sorry, Mark. I’m so, so sorry.”

Taeyong muffles a gasp, shoving a hand to his mouth as Donghyuck continues.

“I’m sorry I always picked fights with you. I’m sorry I used your toothbrush that one time, I only did it to make you mad.” Donghyuck’s voice thickens with tears, but he forces a giggle through it. “It was fun when you would chase me around. I liked it when you gave me attention. I’m sorry I was such a pest.”

Donghyuck wipes a hand over his running nose, staring up at the tree he’s knelt in front of. Of course, it isn’t the tree Mark was left in. Instead, Donghyuck has chosen to say his goodbyes in front of one of the most beautiful trees in the forest. It stands tall and proud, glorious autumn colors showing on its leaves. It boasts full branches and a smooth, chocolate brown trunk.

“I’m sorry I never told you how much I loved you.”

Taeyong can’t help the tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Well, love. Not loved. I still love you, Mark. Isn’t that wild? God, I wish I had said something earlier. I wish I could’ve gone on dates with you, spent our life together. Married or dating or in love or not, I wish we could’ve at least grown old together. I was really looking forward to pushing you off your rocking chair, you know? We would be that bickering pair of besties in the same nursing home, accusing each other of cheating at bingo. That was my dream.”

Donghyuck doodles in the dirt. “I bet you see Chenle up there, huh? Or maybe not. I bet Chenle went to heaven, or ascended to whatever highest status they could give. You, though? I dunno. You were such an idiot! You did always go to church though.” Donghyuck presses his forehead to the ground, sobbing into the carpet of leaves. “Ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying. Sorry. This always happens, I want to say something sweet and soft but then it comes out all mean and wrong, I just--” Donghyuck balls up his fists in his hair, tugging. “I just wish you knew how much you meant to me!”

Taeyong bites his lip, unsure of whether to step in or to let Donghyuck finish venting to the void. The decision is made for him as Donghyuck’s shoulders abruptly stop quivering. He raises himself out of the deep bow, leveling a gaze at the tree. “Don’t worry about me, though. I love you guys-- more than you could ever know, but you won’t be seeing me for a good long while. I always said I was gonna outlive you, Mark, based on your complete lack of common sense, but I’m gonna milk this for as long as I can. For you. For Chenle, Johnny, Lucas, Taeil...All of you. I’m gonna be the baddest bitch you’ve ever seen, so you better stick around and watch over me while I do it.”

Donghyuck gets up, knees knocking, and wobbles his way over to the tree. He takes a sharp stick from the ground and digs into the soft bark with it.

_ Wong Lucas Johnny Seo Moon Taeil Ten Mark Lee Zhong Chenle _

_ In loving memory. _

He inscribes the words with shaking hands, but they are etched into the tree gracefully and beautifully, as if done by a calligrapher and not by a grieving teenage boy.

“I miss you. Goodbye.” He breathes, fingers coming up to trace the names. Donghyuck bows his head and begins to cry again. Taeyong takes this as his cue to step into the clearing. He pulls Donghyuck close. The boy doesn’t even question Taeyong’s presence, just allows himself to be lead back to the campsite. 

Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun are all curled around each other. Taeyong gently deposits Donghyuck in their midst, and he sinks into them without complaint. The other boys wrap themselves around him swallowing him up into their broken cuddle pile. They’re all still crying-- Renjun is crying in his sleep.

Taeyong wishes he could offer them more than a few words. He wishes he could be as much of a strong, comforting, fatherly figure like Johnny. He wishes he had the wisdom and clarity of thinking of Taeil, able to be comedic on camera but incredibly insightful when needed. He wishes he could hype them all up and get their spirits high like Lucas, who was always more of a part of the dreamie’s crew than anyone else’s. He wishes he could be as close to them as Mark, who was so well respected even if they ganged up on him together. 

He wishes the people who could actually help were still here.

Taeyong sits down heavily on one of the logs. “We need to start moving again.” He says blankly to Jaehyun, and then pauses. “Yuta saved my life.”

Jaehyun doesn’t turn to face him, staring despondently into the earth beneath their feet. “What do you mean?” His voice lacks any interest or inflection, but Taeyong answers anyways.

“I was going to drown, searching for Chenle. Yuta saved my life. He-- He can’t be a suspect.”

Jaehyun stands up sharply. “You’re thinking about _ suspects _at a time like this? No one killed Chenle but-- but--”

Taeyong feels the stab to his heart. “I have to think about these things! There’s still danger out there! I haven’t forgotten about...I could never forget about Chenle. Never.”

Jaehyun doesn’t reply.

Even with the heavy weight on his chest, Taeyong manages to round up the stragglers of their group and begin to move them forward. Jisung hasn’t made a single sound the whole time, staring down at Chenle’s bag.

Minutes pass in a haze. Taeyong feels like he’s floating away, right in the middle of the group. Doyoung is leading again, somehow. Taeyong loves his family but feels as if he cannot trust anyone anymore. Certainly not himself.

They stop for a break again. None of them are able to go very far without needing to rest, the lack of proper meals already getting to them.

“How much longer?” Taeyong asks, finger idly rubbing against Chenle’s beloved keychain. It’s large, about the size of his palm, and keeps clanging against the front of his bag.

“I don’t know…” Doyoung says, but it’s drowned out by the rushing in Taeyong’s ears as the pad of his thumb catches on the back of the keychain. For some reason the back is uneven and jagged, lines scratched into it. Heart in his throat, Taeyong turns the charm over and squints at it. There, in fine writing, is a note:

_ Dear Family, _

_ This is all my fault. Chenle died because of me. That stupid game told us and I didn’t listen. I told him he’d be fine as long as he had me and I failed him. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ Love, Jisung _

“Jisung…” Taeyong wheezes, eyes wild as he searches around him for the boy. He’s nowhere to be found. “Everyone! _ Where’s Jisung_!”

All activity stops. No one can figure out where Jisung is, or when the last time they saw him was, or anything. Where did he go? 

Each member takes a turn at reading the note. There’s something horrible at the bottom of Taeyong’s stomach.

That note sounded like a goodbye.

Taeyong’s thoughts move a mile a minute. Wait...it can’t be. 

He turns and starts stumbling back the way they came, unconfident footsteps giving way to a determined sprint. “Jisung!_ ” _ He screams. He can faintly hear the pounding of feet behind him, ensuring that his boys are in tow as he tears through the forest.

_ “Jisung!” _

Taeyong keeps running and running, all the way back to the lake. He nearly slips by the edge, Jeno’s grip on his arm the only thing stopping him from tumbling into the waters.

The lake is clearer in the daylight. With the sun’s rays slicing beams of light into the water, the absence of wind and the clearance of algae, it is not too hard to see the two bodies laying at the bottom of the lake, hand in hand.

“Oh my god!” Taeyong muffles his cries into his sleeve. “Jisungie…”

The group shatters around him, each member falling into someone else’s arms. Of course Taeyong felt guilt over Chenle’s death, but what Jisung must have felt, to drive him to these lengths...Taeyong’s heart feels like it’s been ripped out of his chest and stomped on right in front of his eyes.

Jisung was not victimized by some loose murderer. He wasn’t killed in a tragic accident. He took his own life, and somehow that hurts worse than anything.

Taeyong’s lungs hurt. It’s not from nearly drowning in the lake this time. This time, he’s drowning in his guilt and his sorrow, and there’s no one to pull him out of the waves.

Except, there is.

Jaehyun’s stiff arm slides around him, hand squeezing Taeyong’s. Neither of them can relax into each other’s embrace, but they cling onto each other anyways. Donghyuck disappears back to his tree, presumably to write another name. Renjun writes a farewell in the sand. Jeno and Jaemin pick out two pretty stones that they knew Chenle and Jisung would have liked, and lay them down underneath their names.

_ Forever_, Renjun writes.

The group gets moving again, a little faster this time. They don’t want to leave their babies behind, but they can’t stand to stay there any longer. With each step Jaehyun looks sicker and sicker, skin turning an ugly greenish white.

Taeyong signals for them to stop again. They’re never going to make it to the other side of the woods at this rate, but he can’t make them keep going when he knows they’re ill. Jaehyun isn’t the only one looking worn out.

Taeyong twiddles his thumb, sitting with his legs crossed on the ground. Jaehyun is perched a few feet away from him, looking at absolutely nothing. He’s fiddling with something on his phone, but his fingers keep tensing like he wants to exit out of whatever he’s doing.

Taeyong stares at the keychain in his hand, a last memento from his two youngest babies. It’s all he has. Entranced by the swirls and the patterns, a memory comes back to him, Chenle’s voice clear as day in his head.

_ Jaehyun was in the room with us, but didn’t want to play. I think that was a bad idea. Would you play with us, Taeyong? _

Taeyong shivers.

_ You can’t win in the game we were playing. _

“Jae…” Taeyong says slowly. “What game did Chenle and Jisung play?” 

Jaehyun visibly freezes in his spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, but it comes out awkward, sounding forced. His eyebrows draw together, conflict flashing behind his eyes. “What game?”

“Chenle told me he and Jisung played a game. What game? Why did Jisung say he knew Chenle was going to die? Who told him that, Jaehyun?” Taeyong advances on him. What is going on here? Nothing is adding up.

Jaehyun’s face gets more and more flushed. “Why are you interrogating me like this? You don’t know anything! You--” Jaehuyn jabs a finger into Taeyong’s chest, “You couldn’t even keep a single one of us safe!”

The pain of hearing that statement from the one he trusts most is crippling to Taeyong. The words are heated and scathing, but there’s regret in Jaehyun’s eyes. Somehow, instead of being hurt or angry, Taeyong is only growing more and more concerned.

“Baby?” He reaches a delicate hand up to brush over Jaehyun’s cheek, but the boy jerks away. 

“Don’t touch me!” Jaehyun spits. He spins on his heel, his body shuddering, and speeds off into the woods.

“Stay here!” Taeyong calls to Jungwoo, who nods and gathers the kids around him. “I’ll go after him.”

Taeyong takes off after Jaehyun, not letting him out of his sight. His eyes track the boy as he darts to and fro, doubles back on himself, and tries to zigzag to shake Taeyong off his trail.

“Jaehyun! What are you doing? Please, stop!” Taeyong shouts at him. His legs are growing weaker, his body jittery. He can’t keep up the chase for much longer, not on such little sleep and food.

To his shock, Jaehyun slams to a stop. Wheezing, Taeyong catches up to him. Jaehyun’s back is facing him, unmoving. He raises a hand to place it on Jaehyun’s shoulder, hoping to spin him around and get him to explain what the fuck is going on. Before his hand makes contact, Jaehyun jumps like he’s been burned and grabs Taeyong’s face in his hands. Jaehyun’s lit up phone skitters across the ground.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU LET ME DIE!” He shrieks into Taeyong’s ears, spit flying. He’s completely unhinged, body jerking this way and that. 

Taeyong thrashes in his grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” He’s breathing fast. Jaehyun’s movements feel unnatural, the way his mouth forms words is foreign. 

“Listen to me!” Jaehyun takes a shuddering breath, sounding like he’s struggling to get air. “You have to listen to me!”

Taeyong is completely taken aback, but nods, eyes wide. His hands come up to close over Jaehyun’s which are digging into his jaw. “O-Of course, Jae.”

“Chenle and Jisung, they were playing-- they were playing with a ouija board.” Jaehyun is gasping so hard Taeyong is afraid he’s going to hyperventilate. “I didn’t know! They were in my room with it and I was--” Jaehyun’s eyes squeeze shut in pain. Bruise marks are starting to form around his neck. “I was listening to loud music. I didn’t know what they were doing!” Each word is a battle as Jaehyun spits them out painfully, excruciatingly long pauses in between his sentences.

“She didn’t like that.” His gaze turns dark and empty. Somewhere during Jaehyun’s strained monologue, as he lost more and more control, his hands had travelled down from Taeyong’s jaw and began to close around Taeyong’s neck. He tightens his grip a bit, lifting the smaller boy off the ground. Taeyong’s eyes are nearly about to pop out of his head at Jaehyun’s erratic behavior. 

What does a ouija game have to do with any of this?

The bruise marks on Jaehyun’s neck are starting to look like fingers.

“That’s...not...real!” Taeyong forces out, the hold on his throat constricting his airflow. “Jae! You’re going to-- t-to kill me!”

Jaehyun freezes for a moment, recognition glimmering in his eyes. His hands go slack without warning, dumping both Taeyong and Jaehyun to the ground. Unlike Jaehyun, Taeyong staggers to his feet. Jaehyun crawls to his knees, hands coming around his own throat. “Y-you aren’t supposed to be in the room...if you aren’t playing. I didn’t know. They didn’t know!”

“Jae…”

“She’s got a hold of me.” Jaehyun scrabbles at his throat. “I can’t control it. Please, she’s so angry. She wants everyone to die and I can’t get _ free!_” His words become even more choked off and his neck cranes at an odd angle. “I can’t talk about it...she’s going to kill me! Please, I can’t get her out of my head! I can’t--I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore!” 

Jaehyun presses a hand to his heart, completely collapsed onto the ground now. “S-She takes control of me and I take c-control of them but I can’t-- I can’t _ stop _ it a-and I lose control and t-the van is my-- it’s all my _ fault _\-- and I killed them!” 

He slows for a second, becoming deathly still. Taeyong edges closer cautiously. 

With a feral scream piercing the air, Jaehyun’s clenched fists slam into his head again and again, his body convulsing to the rhythm. “MY FAULT! MY FAULT! MY FAULT!” Taeyong covers his mouth with his hand in horror as blood spews from Jaehyun’s mouth, dribbling down his chin.

“I tried-- to save everyone. I tried to drown myself in the lake but she-- she g-got me halfway through and tried to make me take Chenle with me. It should’ve...it should’ve been me!” Jaehyun wobbles closer, twitching hands desperately grabbing at the hem of Taeyong’s pants, “I tried so hard, Yong, I-I tried to fight her off but I was too weak! I’m too w-weak!”

Jaehyun snaps his neck up so his gaze bores right into Taeyong. His eyes are filled with tears, anguish and guilt swimming in them, and behind it all-- a plea.

“Please, Taeyong. Please kill me.”

_ KILL JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744670) _

_ WOUND JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 45](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745228) _

_ LET JAEHYUN LIVE? _

_ [→ Chapter 30](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744964) _

  
  
  
  



	37. thirty-seven.

_ DON’T RISK IT _

_ → Selected! _

  


**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

  
  


_ BACK. _

_ [→ Chapter 41](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745183) _


	38. thirty-eight.

_ HIDE IN THE WATER PARK _

_ → Silly boy. You can run, but you can’t hide. _

Taeyong sighs, rubbing his the heels of his palms over his eyes. Trying to escape is a stupid idea. He’d be leading the killer right back to his boys. 

He can’t afford the risk.

He steps further into the water park, the rough cobblestone digging into the worn down soles of his sneakers. For an amusement park, the water rides section is rather large, lending Taeyong plenty of places to camp out.

There’s a medium sized wave pool to his right, and a few slides straight ahead. Taeyong chooses to bear left to get as close to the edge of the park as he can, walking past a few kiddie pools and climbing structures. He pauses by a large octopus themed kids play area,

a pang hitting his heart as he remembers bringing the dreamies to a similar park on one of their summer days off. 

It was to celebrate back when they first debuted. Taeyong remembers teaching Chenle how to swim, chasing a playful Jisung through the obstacle courses, and carefully monitoring them in the wave pool. He remembers buying them all ice creams to relieve them from the sticky summer’s day, sweeping them up into hugs and showering them with pride and affection.

He remembers relaxing into Jaehyun’s arms by the poolside.

Taeyong’s nails dig into one of the octopus’s tentacles as grief wells up in his chest. They’ll be fine without him. He’s failed them enough.

_ It’s all your fault. _Chenle reminds him.

“I know.” Taeyong replies weakly, tearing his gaze away from the cheery little area. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see Jaemin splashing in the water, the rest of 00 line snuggled by his side.

_ Your fault, your fault, your fault! _Ten laughs and laughs, the wheezing sound soon dissolving into gurgling sobs. 

_ You did this to us! _

“I _ know!” _ Taeyong snarls, marching towards the back of the park with his fists clenched. “I know, I know, I know. You can stop fucking reminding me.”

Taeyong hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, fingertips brushing the pockets. He stops short, groaning as he feels around the flat fabric. He must’ve dropped Chenle’s keychain back by the octopus area.

Taeyong spins on his heel, retracing his steps. No matter how much he doesn’t want to face those memories again, he can’t lose the last memento he has of his baby, of his _ family. _

He reaches the play park again, spotting the smooth piece of wood near the sign. He crouches to pick it up, head tilting in confusion as he notices something.

The water is rippling.

Taeyong stares at the few inches of water that make up the ‘pool’ part of the section, heart pounding as he tries to rationalize it. There must have been something that dropped into the pool to cause those ripples-- perhaps a leaf fell off one of the nearby trees, or he accidentally splashed it as he left.

He stares at the perfectly dry hems of his jeans. There’s nothing in the water.

Taeyong stands up, gripping the keychain tightly. Nothing moves. With cautious steps, he backs away from the area, returning to the path he was on.

He can’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back.

Taeyong absentmindedly rubs the smooth surface of the keychain as he walks. It gives him a feeling he can’t quite place. He stops to examine the intricate details on the dark wood, blood freezing as he catches a glimpse of a dark shape reflected in the glass. He turns. 

No one is there.

“I’m being followed.” Taeyong declares to nobody in particular, voice drained of emotion. He can’t care any longer. This was the plan, wasn’t it? Attract the killer, give his brothers more time to escape. He’s probably hearing things, anyways.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He continues through the park for a few more minutes until he reaches the farthest corner, where the lazy river is. None of the jets are turned on, the water quiet and calm. Taeyong crouches by the lip of the pool, gazing into his reflection. He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see staring back.

_ It’s another dead end, but there are three faces frowning at him now. Ten is swaying behind them, ugly red handprints around his neck, skin purpled and lips stained blue. _

Taeyong shudders, plunging a hand into the water to disperse the image. He swears he can see something move behind him, its shape distorted by the ripples. Frustration pounding through his veins, he whirls around to be faced with nothing but a mound of deflated pool tubes, the air whooshing sadly out of one of them.

_ Too slow! _ Lucas cries with laughter. _ Better hurry, better hurry! _

Taeyong scowls at the water, his paranoia building with every slight movement. He observes the area. The lazy river path forks not too far ahead. The left side is wider and seems to be the main path, while the right one passes underneath a bridge and appears to be a quick forest themed departure from the main ride. It looks like it goes through an area not accessible to anyone outside the ride. 

Time to hide.

Mind made up, Taeyong lowers himself into the chilly water, hissing at the temperature as the cold seeps into his bones. “_Fuck!” _

He tries to keep his gasping down as he adjusts to the water, unsure if anyone is actually tailing him. Whoever it is won’t be able to get to him if he takes shelter on the right side of the fork, and anyone trying to approach by water should make enough noise for him to notice with time to escape.

_ Where _ he would escape to is an issue he doesn’t particularly want to consider.

Taeyong slowly inches his way towards the fork, mindful of splashing. He’s lucky that the currents aren’t running, or he could risk being swept down the wrong path. He wades down the ride side, feet swishing lightly over the scratchy pool floors. He decides to stop around the middle of the side path, leaning up against the guardrails separating the river from the surrounding forest edge.

Taeyong stares into the water, hopelessness glazed over his eyes. He’s shivering, but the frosty bite of the wind against his damp skin is starting to be a welcome distraction from the hurt worming its way into his heart.

Twigs crunch behind him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the water, but his fingers are starting to prune. He’s feeling warmer and warmer, almost sweating. Perhaps getting in the frigid water was a bad idea.

Another branch snaps.

_ Hide and seek! _ Taeil says sweetly. _ I’ll find you. _

Taeyong is so sick of hiding. He’s sick of the excruciating fear, the building dread. Waiting to be picked off like stupid teens in a cheap off brand horror flick is worse than anything fate could throw his way.

_ I’ll find you. _

Taeyong is tired.

_ Ready to play? _ [REDACTED] laughs and laughs and laughs.

“He can’t get me if I’m already dead.” Taeyong spits to the open air, his words mostly empty threats. 

Mostly. 

He swears he can hear leaves crunching from somewhere behind him, gradually approaching his hiding spot. He holds his breath in terror. 

No one should be able to get to this area.

_ Three. _

Taeyong grips the underside of the edge of the pool, sinking completely below the water and pressing himself flat against the wall. He struggles to stay under for a few seconds, his body spasming in protest of the freezing temperatures. He breathes out slowly, watching anxiously as the air bubbles pop on the surface of the water. That’s a dead giveaway.

He should just release all the air from his lungs at once. That way there’s no bubbles, no way for him to be detected.

It’s nice down here. Quiet. The ghosts of his pasts can’t seem to haunt him down here in the inky depths.

_ Two. _

Maybe he should stay.

_ “Promise you’ll come back.” Mark begs thickly, fingers tightening in Taeyong’s sweatshirt. “Promise me this isn’t goodbye.” _

Taeyong tears himself out of the water, panting. As soon as the muffled serenity of the underwater world falls away his ears are once more filled with screaming and crying, curses hurled at him from people he loves-- the same people he _ failed. _He can’t do it. He can’t do it.

He never promised Mark.

_ One_.

Taeyong lets his head slip below the murky water again, feeling his lungs squeeze as the air escapes his chest. This time he doesn’t break the surface, relishing in the burning spreading like wildfire through his lungs.

_ This must be what Johnny felt. _

He doesn’t intend to stay there forever, just long enough to hurt. To suffer the same pain he’s put his family through.

_ You’re a danger to everyone you love. So why not take care of the problem? _Jungwoo giggles in his ear.

“Maybe he’ll give up.” Taeyong says sullenly, watching the garbled words turn into bubbles. He stares at them rising as his heart plummets in his chest. His limbs feel like dead weights by his side, the searing pain becoming unbearable as darkness crowds the corners of his vision. Dizzy, his eyes fall shut, succumbing to the abyss.

_ Or maybe I will. _

**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 42](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745192) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	39. thirty-nine.

_ DON’T DESTROY THE PHONE _

_ → Selected! _

“Everyone just calm down!” Taeyong shouts, chest constricting with pain as the boys quiet down. “We are not going to rush into this, okay? We need to think.”

“_Fuck that. _ We’re running out of time to think.” Renjun spits, seething. Taeyong tries to let the hatred radiating off the younger boy roll off his back. It hurts, but Renjun is just grieving.

“Look.” Yuta drags a tired hand down his face, tugging at the sensitive skin under his eyes. “Let’s say we destroy the phone and sure, maybe the thing won’t have control over us anymore. But who’s to say it won’t be laying in wait inside Jaehyun? Who’s to say it won’t come back and finish the rest of us off? That’s not solving the problem. That’s slapping a bandaid over a missing limb and singing _ that’s a wrap folks! _”

Sicheng nods delicately. “Let’s just take a step back. We have to figure out how to get the demon out of Jaehyun entirely-- if we can.”

The uncertainty in Sicheng’s voice goes straight to Taeyong’s heart. Fuck. What if it’s irreversible? None of them are goddamn priests or exorcists and there’s no way to get any sort of contact out here. What if there’s no way to remove the demon from Jaehyun? 

What if he’s really lost the love of his life?

Taeyong stands up with a sigh and shoves the phone deep into his pocket. “I’m going back to Jaehyun to see if he can give us any hints. If we hang onto the phone the demon can’t do anything with it, right? So as long as we don’t get too close to Jaehyun...we’ll be fine.” The silent _ I hope _ rings through the clearing.

He doesn’t bother to check if they’re following him. He’s not sure he wants them to be, but he can’t stop them at this point. He can’t stop anything. 

Hopelessness seeps into his bones as he trudges back. He has no idea what the hell he’s expecting Jaehyun to tell him. It’s not like he has a guide to demonic possession book hidden in his back pocket or something-- if anything, being under _ it’s _influence probably makes Jaehyun a hell of a lot more confused and uninformed than they are, if he’s even lucid at this point.

Perhaps Taeyong just wants to make sure he isn’t dead.

Jaehyun, once again, hasn’t moved since they left him. Taeyong scans the area quickly. He can tell that his boys are close by, but they haven’t entered the clearing. They’re probably discussing things a clearing over. Taeyong sinks to the ground in front of Jaehyun, methodically peering at his chest to make sure he’s breathing.

He draws his knees into his chest, cheek resting on his kneecap as tears drip down his nose. “I don’t know what to do, Jae.” He whimpers. “I don’t know how to help you.”

Jaehyun doesn’t respond.

“Please. Can you tell us anything? How can we free you? I don’t--” Taeyong digs his nails deep into his palms, crying out in pain, “_I don’t know what to do!” _

He sits there, breathing heavily as the tip of Jaehyun’s index finger twitches a bit. He still hasn’t raised his head, his whole frame still except for the weak finger dragging through the dirt.

G O

“G-Go?” Taeyong stammers, “What do you mean, go?”

LE AVE ME

Jaehyun’s fingers uncurl from his palm as his hand slackens, falling to the side. Taeyong’s heart pounds in his chest. Surely Jaehyun can’t be asking him to-- it’s not so hopeless that he’ll have to--

He can’t.

“I’m not leaving you.” Taeyong says thickly, slamming his hands into the dirt. Crescent moons decorate his palms, blood dribbling down to his wrists. “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t I won’t _ I won’t!” _

“Taeyong?” Donghyuck moves through the trees. “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun’s breaths are shallow and slow, his skin turning cold. He’s lost so much blood. Taeyong swipes the words on the ground away because he _ can’t _. He won’t leave Jaehyun.

With a last tiny surge of strength, Jaehyun scrawls some squiggles into the fresh dirt. Taeyong cranes his neck at the glyphs.

1 0 > 1

Taeyong presses a shaking hand to his heart. It can’t be.

_ Saving the rest of our family is more important than saving me. _

Jaehyun can’t have just given up on himself. It’s impossible! Not his rock, his anchor, the one who keeps him grounded when everything gets to be too much. Jaehyun can’t possibly be telling them to leave him to rot in the forest. He can’t possibly believe that there’s such a low success rate for ridding him the demon that it would be better to just let him _ die _, right?

Right?

“What’s going on over here?” Doyoung booms. The rest of the group has made their way back into the clearing, still staying quite far from Jaehyun.

Donghyuck’s hand slides into Taeyong’s grip. “Jae wants us to leave him behind.” He says in a small voice, a tear arcing down his cheek.

“We can’t do that. We can’t just leave him behind!” Taeyong protests tearfully. They are supposed to be family. Families don’t sacrifice one another for the good of everyone else.

_ We stick together. _

“Jaehyun knows best, shouldn’t he? If he thinks we should go on ahead, should we trust him?” Jeno bites his lip nervously.

“This is ridiculous. We’ve lost so many people, are we just going to willingly leave Jaehyun here?” Jungwoo scoffs. He turns to Taeyong, sympathy shining in his eyes. “Don’t feel pressured, Taeyong. If that was Lucas I know I’d do anything to keep him alive.”

“But if we bury the phone...if we leave Jaehyun here...That means the demon will stay here, right? We don’t know where it will go if we try to get it out of Jaehyun but if we leave it, it can’t harm anyone else. It’s foolproof. W-We won’t have to see anyone else die.” Renjun can’t make eye contact with anyone else. 

Guilt slithers its way around Taeyong’s heart. He doesn’t want to leave anyone, but can he really keep justifying dragging this journey on? He sees the exhaustion reflected in everyone’s faces and cries for them, for all they’ve lost and for the fear of losing more. Leaving Jaehyun may be their saving grace, or it could be their downfall.

_ I can’t let my anchor sink. _

  
  


_ LEAVE JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744406) _

_ DON’T LEAVE JAEHYUN? _

_ [→ Chapter 32](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745021) _


	40. forty.

_ TRUST JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong scrambles backwards, hand pressed to his mouth in shock as he watches Jaehyun bash the rock against Ten’s head. The boy beneath him flails and struggles as Jaehyun brings the rock down again and again, Ten’s head bouncing against the ground. Taeyong turns away with a sob.

“What are you_ doing?!” _ He wails, arms pulling his knees to his chest. “_Jaehyun__!” _

After a few more seconds, Ten’s thrashing grows still. Blood pools by his head, soaking his clothes. Jaehyun allows the bloody rock to drop from his hands. He leans forward and braces his hands on his knees, choking and coughing as he sobs. No one speaks or moves. After a few minutes pass, Jaehyun shakily pulls himself to his feet, unable to look away from his bloodstained hands. He turns to make eye contact with Taeyong, who is sobbing uncontrollably, backed up against a tree trunk. Jaeyong scrubs his hands onto his pants and takes a few unsteady steps towards Taeyong. “Are you...Yongie, are you okay? Baby?”

“Please don’t hurt me.” Taeyong pleads to him quietly. He shrinks back against the trunk, trying to make himself look as small as possible. Jaehyun stops in his tracks, hurt flashing across his features.

“I wouldn’t.” Jaehyun falls to his knees a few feet away from Taeyong, body wracking with sobs as he puts his hands together and bows to the ground. “Baby, I could _ never_.”

“What did you-- _ why _ did you-- _ Fuck you!_” Taeyong can barely form a full sentence, not being able to tear his gaze away from the prone body laying a mere few yards from them. Ten’s skin is still tinged that sickly shade of green.

“You have to trust me.” Jaehyun begs. “Please, he was dangerous!”

“D-Dangerous how...?” Taeyong bites his lip. Ten did seem unstable and sick, but that doesn’t mean he had to-- he had to--

_ Die_.

Jaehyun inches a little closer, and then a little more when Taeyong doesn’t flinch away. He holds out one shaking hand.

“Do you trust me?”

Taeyong buries his face in his hands. Does he? Does he trust Jaehyun? He thinks about all the times Jaehyun has put him first, always checked in and asked if he was okay, was there for him when he wasn’t and there for him when he was, how he always helped him keep the kids in check and kept his head on straight when Taeyong felt like things were crashing down in front of his eyes. This is still the same Jaehyun he once said he’d trust with his life, and he supposes he just did.

“Yes.”

Taeyong allows Jaehyun to pull him up by the hand, tugging him into a tight hug. Jaehyun runs a comforting hand up and down Taeyong’s back, shushing him quietly as Taeyong cries into his arms. “He was-- Ten was a Husk, Taeyong.”

“A _ what_?” Taeyong hiccups.

“A Husk. He wasn’t-- that wasn’t him, back there. Well it was his body, but his mind...wasn’t his.”

“I don’t understand.” How could that possibly be?

“I’ll explain everything later, to everyone.” Jaehyun won’t meet Taeyong’s eyes. Taeyong jumps at the mention of the other boys.

“Wait, I lost track of my group!” He breaks out of Jaehyun’s arms, whirling around the clearing. “Where did they go? Are they safe?” His heart pounds. He can’t bear to lose anyone else-- he’s already let down enough people.

“Calm down!” Jaehyun grabs after him. “They’re back at the fork.”

Taeyong slows. “Huh?”

“When they came out of the bushes, they saw that you were gone. They looked for you, but couldn’t find you in the time limit so they took the path back to the fork to meet us like we all agreed.”

Taeyong sags. “Oh.” They actually followed his directions, go figure. “Please bring me back to them.”

He places his hand in Jaehyun’s once again and allows him to lead the way back to the meeting point. He doesn’t care to ask how Jaehyun knew where he was. He just wants to gather up the kids in his arms and hold them close and make sure nothing harms them ever again.

He’s failed at that twice already. Try as he might, he can’t squash the foolish hope that Taeil and Johnny are alive, somewhere out there.

Time passes as they tromp through the dense woods, hands still linked to ensure that they won’t be separated. Finally, they pull themselves out of the underbrush, landing at the feet of the group.

“Is that-- _ Taeyong!” _Chenle is the first to notice the new arrivals, throwing himself at Taeyong. Taeyong catches him in his arms with a grunt, hugging him close.

“Taeyong we thought-- we thought we _ lost _ you!” Jisung wails, hugging him from behind. “We thought you were gone forever!” Taeyong, overwhelmed, tries to wrap his arms around Jisung as well. Within a moment, he’s covered in crying dreamies.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Taeyong insists, gently removing them so he can catch his breath. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“That was really stressful, you scared us!” Mark complains, hitting Taeyong’s arm lightly. He’s acting nonchalant, but Taeyong can see the glassy tears shining in his eyes. He pulls Mark towards him for an extra squeeze of comfort. Mark pretends to try to push him away with an annoyed huff, but snuggles closer when he doesn’t think anyone is looking.

He stares at the kids fondly. “You guys did well.” He glances to Jungwoo, Sicheng, and Doyoung as well. “Thank you for following directions.”

Taeyong looks to the rest of the group. “Anyone...anyone find anything?” He doesn’t know if he wants an answer. Taeil and Johnny clearly aren’t among their ranks. He gulps as everyone shakes their heads, looking downtrodden.

“Okay. We should go back.” Taeyong says, grabbing Jungwoo’s hand and starting towards the park again.

“We’re going to leave them out here?” a small voice comes from the back-- Renjun. Taeyong freezes, hands worrying at the hem of his shirt.

“...I’m sorry. I can’t put the rest of you at risk anymore. We’re going back.”

He pushes his way through the bushes, leaving the rest of the boys no choice but to follow his lead. Somewhere along the path, he falls back to his usual position near the back of the group. It allows him to better monitor his boys.

It’s a good thing he does. Halfway through the journey Jeno trips over a tree root and crashes into the dirt floor, hard. Taeyong is there in a second with a helping hand outstretched, but Jeno doesn’t move.

“Jeno? Baby?” Taeyong peers closer at his face. Jeno is laying with his stomach flat to the ground, hands propping himself up slightly as he stares into the woods to their right.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno slowly drags himself up, pointing through the trees. There’s a faintly visible lump slumped on the ground far off the path, almost completely out of sight. With how tightly interlocked the low hanging branches of the surrounding trees are, the figure would’ve been almost impossible to see without laying on the ground or ducking far beneath the branches.

“Oh my god…” Taeyong breathes as Jeno yells at the group to stop. “Stay there!” He orders them as he moves cautiously towards the figure. 

He shudders. He hasn’t forgotten about Ten.

The rest of the boys, naturally, don’t listen to him and follow him anyways. Typical. Taeyong’s heart inches further and further up his throat with each branch he bats out of the way, til he can nearly taste blood in his mouth.

His heart plummets from his throat to his shoes as he pushes away the final obstacle between him and the figure.

Or should he say, _ body. _

Johnny is propped up against a tree trunk with his hand pressed to his side, head turned and cheek pressed into the rough bark. His face is relaxed, body slack. Blood drips from between the fingers held to his stomach, contributing to the ever growing pool of blood oozing down the forest floor. His other arm is bent awkwardly out to the side, a bloody and broken car key resting in the open palm. Johnny’s hair is stringy with blood, skin stiff and pale.

“Oh my _ god!” _ Taeyong forces a hand over his mouth to suppress a scream, one arm flying out to shove the rest of the boys back. “D-don’t! _ Don’t look!” _ He tries to usher the boys back to the trail before they are scarred for life, but it’s too late. They’ve already seen him.

“J-Johnny!” Donghyuck screams, stepping forwards as if to run towards the body, but Doyoung holds him back by the arm. Doyoung’s got his fist lodged in his mouth, trying to hold back his sobs as he comforts Donghyuck. Jungwoo turns and throws up into a bush, unable to cope with the stress. Mark restrains Jisung and Chenle, fighting off his own sobs, while the rest of the boys huddle together in shock. 

“We need to-- turn back everyone, turn back!” Taeyong manages through his sobs. Jaehyun has a death grip on his hand.

Before he manages to remove them from the situation, Kun breaks off and stumbles across the path, deathly slow. Taeyong scrabbles at Kun’s hand to pull him back, but Kun evades him, moving in a trancelike state. The area is silent save for the crackling of leaves and branches. Taeyong cranes his neck to try and catch a glimpse of what Kun is looking at, but to no avail.

Kun stops at the edge of the small clearing. His mouth drops open as he sinks to the ground, knees hitting the mud. “_Taeil! _” He chokes.

Suddenly Taeyong’s feet unfreeze from the ground, sending him tripping after Kun. His breathing is erratic and his body shakes uncontrollably, vision blurring with tears and exhaustion.

_ No, no, no! _

There’s a shape swinging gently in the trees, feet at eye level. Taeyong slowly allows his eyes to travel up the body, terrified of what he’d find. It’s exactly what he never wanted to see.

_ Tell me it’s not true. _

Moon Taeil is hanging from an oak tree by his neck.

Taeyong collapses to the ground, feeling like he’s going to be sick as well. He pounds a fist against his chest.

“_Why_?!” Jaemin moans, whirling around and burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t understand…” Renjun whimpers, his hands knotted in his hair. “Did they fight? Did someone do this? What the _ fuck _ happened?!”

“God, no!” Yuta takes one look at the suspended body and slams a fist into the nearest tree trunk, bowing his head. Tears drip onto the ground, wetting the leaves beneath his feet. “No, no,_ no! This can’t be happening!” _

“A-At least his eyes are closed.” Jaehyun sobs into his hand. It’s true. Out of all of them, Taeil looks the most peaceful, eyes gracefully closed and body mostly unmarred, pristine save for the lanyard wrapped around his neck. A vine loops from the twisted up lanyard to wrap around a thick part of the branch, effectively tying him to the tree.

“That’s it!” A strangled cry rips out of Taeyong’s throat. “We’re leaving! We’re going back to the park and getting the car and fucking _ leaving!” _

Most members nod numbly along to Taeyong’s plan, but Doyoung holds up a hand in protest. He’s not bothering to suppress his pain anymore, anguish shown openly on his face. “You-- you want us to go back to the _ park_? Where we saw the crazy chainsaw guy that probably did this? What if he’s still out there?!”

“But we can’t stay here...” Sicheng argues emotionlessly. He seems to be taking this the hardest. He had fallen into a near catatonic, unresponsive state after throwing up over and over again, suffocating himself with his own sobs.

“Well we can’t go back to where that fucking murderer is, can we!” Kun bites. “We’d be walking right into the goddamn lion’s den.”

Taeyong looks furiously between his warring members, unsure of what to do. Neither option is ideal.

_ TRY TO LEAVE? _

_[ → Chapter 26](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744850) _

_ STAY IN THE WOODS? _

_ [→ Chapter 18](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744706) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	41. forty-one.

_ COMFORT _

_ → Selected! _

“Yuta?” Taeyong calls quietly, inching closer to the frozen boy. “It’s-- It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He tries to avoid looking at the bodies on the ground, he really does. He doesn’t want to disturb Yuta further, but he also doesn’t want to face...whatever happened. It’s hard, though, when Yuta’s shirt is drenched in blood.

Taeyong knows he should be feeling liquid anger burn through his veins. There’s obviously only one person to blame for these murders and he’s so exposed, so vulnerable and open. Taeyong should want to hurt Yuta, kill him in return for what he’s done to their precious family. But…

_ I chose to trust him. I have to trust him. I know Lucas, and Lucas is not a bad person. _

Not everything is as clear as it seems.

Taeyong built this family on trust. He heard Lucas out, he listened to Donghyuck’s plan, and he respected Doyoung and Johnny with their reports. Perhaps not all of those were the right decisions, but they aligned with what was most important to him-- to them.

Trust.

Perhaps it’s naive to comfort a murderer. Perhaps this will get Taeyong killed. He can’t find himself caring much, though. If he allows his fear and rage take over, the group will continue to unravel.

He’ll continue to fail.

“You’re safe, Yuta. B-baby, you’re okay.” Taeyong steps carefully, aware of the gravel crunching beneath his feet. He slows his breathing down, hoping to appear calm in front of the frightened boy.

That’s all he is. Right now, with his violently shaking hand pressed to his mouth, the tears slipping from his widened eyes, the terrified gasping escaping his mouth, that’s all Yuta is. Just a frightened little boy.

Taeyong hovers a mere foot away from Yuta, whose trembling has grown in intensity. Taeyong locks eyes with him, hoping to catch a glimpse of sanity somewhere in the murky depths. He slowly stretches his arms out, nodding slightly at Yuta.

Anxiety bubbles in his gut. What if Yuta flees? What if he doesn’t trust Taeyong enough to surrender? What if he lashes out?

_ I can’t fail. _

Yuta licks his cracked lips, gaze darting all over the place. It lands on Taeyong.

_ I won’t fail! _

Recognition glimmers in his pupils.

“Taeyong?”

Yuta’s eyes roll back in his head, knees giving out as Taeyong surges forward. He barely catches Yuta’s weak body in his arms, both of them sinking to the ground.

Yuta is worryingly light in his hold. He burrows into Taeyong’s chest, clutching desperately at the lapels of his jacket. Taeyong takes this to mean skinship is good right now, lightly running his hands all over Yuta’s body, shushing him quietly. He hugs him tightly, whispering his assurances to him.

“I didn’t-- didn’t mean to.” Yuta croaks, chest spasming as he struggles to get out the words. “Didn’t wa-want to. Have. To believe me please I d-didn’t want to!” He stumbles over his words, speech slurred as he weaves his desperate pleas into thick black tar that creeps into the chambers of his heart.

“I believe you.” Taeyong says simply, pressing his cheek to Yuta’s forehead. He breathes deeply, forcing back tears as he mutters softly into Yuta’s matted hair. “I believe you. I believe you. You’re okay now, you’re safe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt a-anyone.”

“I know you don’t.”

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut as footsteps pound up to them. He doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to face the reality that four more of his brothers are dead and the one responsible is breaking down in his arms.

“Taeyong…” Jaemin gasps. “What-- what happened?”

Taeyong gives a tiny shake of his head, still buried in Yuta’s hair. He doesn’t want to do this, but he must. “I don’t know.” He answers honestly, lifting his head to look them all in the eye. It’s the truth. It’s easy to assume a story from what he witnessed, but there’s a niggling voice in the back of his head that tells him it’s not that simple.

Yuta had been calming down in his arms, but went rigid as soon as the others approached. He starts trembling again, mumbling words into Taeyong’s chest. Taeyong leans down a little to hear it.

_ I don’t want to hurt them please I can’t hurt them please I don’t understand I don’t understand _

“Yuta? Honey?” Taeyong nudges at the boy. “It’s okay, you’re in control. Can you...can you tell us what happened?”

Yuta tenses. Taeyong coaxes him to lift his head so they can hear him better.

He swallows hard, unable to look at anyone other than Taeyong. “I don’t remember.”

Taeyong feels like he’s been slapped. “You don’t...remember? Anything?”

Yuta shakes his head slowly, grimacing. “Nothing. I remember trying to settle down to sleep but I was so-- I was so upset and I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think at all. When I opened my eyes I saw you, Taeyong, standing over there and my hands felt wet and I was so, so cold. It felt like...” Yuta trails over, gaze flickering up to the inky sky. “It felt like…”

“Someone was in your head?” Yuta blanches at the new voice, sharp and serious. Taeyong jolts to see Lucas shouldering his way to the front. He crouches by them, searching Yuta’s eyes. “You felt like someone was in your head? Your mind felt foggy, you felt another presence in your body, and then you lost control, right?”

Wordlessly, Yuta nods, and Taeyong feels his heart break again.

“I understand.” Lucas’s eyes are bright, glimmering with unshed tears. His voice dips low. “I _ understand. _”

“We need to figure out what’s going on.” Lucas straightens up. “Yuta and I have both experienced the same loss of control and memory loss and…”

“Death.” Renjun hiccups. Taeyong worries at his lip, scanning the members clustered around them. He didn’t even check to see that they were all okay.

Renjun is crumpled between Sicheng and Kun, a hand laid flat against both of their chests, desperate to feel them move beneath his fingertips. “They’re dead. All of them, they’re--_ dead! _” His voice breaks on the word. Jeno wraps himself around Renjun’s quivering shoulders, running bony fingers through his tangled hair.

“We’re being toyed with.” Taeil grits out.

“What?” The question is out of Taeyong’s mouth automatically, but as he processes Taeil’s words he can kind of understand where he’s coming from.

Taeil clenches his fist, searching for the words. “This...this isn’t normal, can we all agree on that? I don’t care if anyone thought Lucas’s statement beforehand was fishy, this has happened at least twice now and I’ve _ never _ heard of someone blacking out and committing...murders. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“If someone wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.” Jaemin says plainly, ignoring the wince that runs through the group. “Something is picking us off one by one.”

“Like cat and mouse.” Taeyong mumbles before his thoughts snag on something Jaemin said. “Wait, some _ thing? _ You don’t think whatever is after us is...human?”

Jaemin snorts, frustration deepening the lines in his forehead. “It can’t be, right? I thought D-Doyoung was a freak accident. When Jisung happened, I thought a serial killer was after us, someone not from our group. But we know Yuta...Yuta did it.” Jaemin grimaces, grief reflected in his features before he schools them once again. “Yuta did it, not some random outside killer. But he was being manipulated by something. It’s got to be a monster or something we don’t know about.”

“We’re not being chased by Casper the fucking _ ghost_, Jaemin.” Donghyuck growls. “You think this is a fun little horror flick? People are _ dying!_”

“You don’t think I know that?” Jaemin shoots back, stepping into Donghyuck’s personal space. “At least I’m trying to put together theories instead of just standing here sobbing like everyone else! What the fuck else could be going on, huh?” He moves to shove at Donghyuck. Mark leaps up from where he’s crouched by Renjun’s side, eyes alight with anger. He lurches towards the quarreling two, but a loud cry shocks them all out of their trances.

“What the fuck are you all thinking!” Jungwoo explodes, face flushed bright red with exertion. “We’re going to get absolutely nowhere like this! We need to think through this logically, as a _ team_. No more fucking splitting up, no more jumping down each others’ throats. I understand tensions are high because we’re--” Jungwoo’s eyes flicker down to Kun’s body, “We’re grieving, but that doesn’t mean we can tear each other apart.”

“We’re a family.” Taeyong says thickly. “Let’s not forget that.” He rises to his feet, gently propping Yuta up along with him. Yuta’s body is slack. Taeyong can feel the muscles spasming slightly under his skin, his bulging veins apparent as they dig into Taeyong’s arm. He clearly can’t stand on his own.

“Let’s talk back at the lodge?” Chenle proposes. He’s shivering.

Taeyong nods. It would be best for them to get somewhere with a roof over their head, somewhere that feels relatively safe, even if it means leaving the fallen behind for a moment. It’s difficult to pull the dreamies away, but Taeyong eventually succeeds in herding everyone inside.

Lucas takes Yuta from Taeyong’s arms, settling him down at one of the tables. Taeyong basks under the dim glow of one of the few unbroken lights overhead. It’s not much, but it feels much safer to be inside.

They don’t really know what they’re running from.

Donghyuck drums on the table, deft fingers tracing the swirls and knots of the old wood. “So, what clue do we have right now?”

The group is silent for a few moments. Jaehyun hasn’t looked up the whole time. Taeyong’s hand feels chilly without Jaehyun’s in its grip.

Renjun sits up straight, shaking his head sharply to collect himself. “Taeyong, when we first got to the lodge we talked about what you saw at the top of the Ferris wheel. I believe...Donghyuck, Mark, and Yuta, you weren’t there for that discussion, right?”

They nod. Mark shoots a wary glance at Yuta. 

“I didn’t see anything that J--” Taeyong swallows. “That Johnny saw, out at the front gates. At the top of the Ferris wheel, I could see that the gates were locked up, but I didn’t see any of the blood or wreckage they talked about, and the parking lot was completely empty.”

“Yuta?” Jeno turns to the frail boy, who tenses. “What did you see?”

Yuta opens his mouth slowly, then slams it shut again. He whines low in his throat, grimy fingers coming up to rub at his temples. “I don’t remember…”

Taeyong places a soft hand on his shoulder, hoping to ground him. He can’t tell if it worked. “You mean you blacked out? Like...like you did earlier?”

Yuta nods. Unease bubbles in the bottom of Taeyong’s stomach. “Yuta...Do you remember pushing Doyoung off the edge?”

Everyone sucks in a sharp gasp. Yuta curls in on himself, conflict visible across his face as his head moves jerkily. “No.” He rasps, a tear splashing onto the table. “I remember getting into the cart, I remember feeling...strange. Then I remember you screaming, and I was leaning over the edge. Doyoung was gone.”

Taeyong’s head spins. 

“Somehow, Johnny and Doyoung’s memories got...messed with, or something, when they went to the front gate. Yuta and Lucas have experienced blackouts where it seems like they become...not themselves?” Taeil groans, burying his face in his hands. “I really don’t understand.”

“I really think we’re dealing with something paranormal.” Jaemin insists, folding his arms. “There’s no way this shit happens to normal, sane people. Something fishy is going on.”

Jaehyun doesn’t speak, sweat shining over his pale skin.

“How can we say that for sure? There’s so much we don’t know.” Mark shakes his head in frustration. “Taeyong’s memory doesn’t match up with Doyoung and Johnny’s, but can we trust anyone’s mind right now? We have no idea what we’re up against. Who’s to say Taeyong’s head wasn’t tampered with, and there really is a threat at the front gates?”

Jungwoo chews on his lip. “We can’t say for sure. I mean, it’s not like we can ask Doyoung or Johnny…”

Chenle huffs out an empty laugh. “Technically, we could.”

Lucas tenses. “What do you mean, Lele?”

Chenle rubs at the little keychain in his hand. “Well...I got sort of interested in Hyuckie’s tarot cards and stuff a while ago, so I picked up a little game at one of the shops we stop by a lot. I don’t really know how to use it, but me and Jisungie tried the other night...I brought it along in case we got bored of the rides and wanted something else spooky to try. M-Maybe we could find Doyoungie or Johnny with it?”

Anxiety thrums in Taeyong’s veins. “Honey…what did you bring?”

Chenle opens his backpack with uncertain fingers, retrieving a thin wooden block from it. He unfolds it, laying it out on the table. A wolf’s face stares back at them, a deadly gleam in its eye. It’s surrounded by letters, with a ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ embossed in gold at the top corners. The bottom of the board has a set of numbers inscribed in it. “It’s called a, um? O-Oua board?” Chenle trips over the words. “I don’t really know. I played it with Jisungie the other night and it was fine, even though--”

“Ouija board.” Jaehyun says hoarsely. Taeyong’s eyes snap to him, concern clawing at his heart. The poor boy looks like he’s going to throw up. “Don’t-- we can’t touch it.”

“Jae? Are you okay?” Taeyong moves his hand towards Jaehyun’s clammy one, but Jaehyun snatches it away immediately, not looking Taeyong’s way. He’s cradling his phone to his chest, terrified gaze fixed on the wolf like it’s about to lunge at him and rip his heart out of his chest.

Taeyong sort of feels the same way.

“We really, really shouldn’t mess with those things.” Jaehyun gulps, skin coloring a ghastly green. “I just-- just have a really bad feeling about it.”

Chenle looks crestfallen, lower lip wobbling. “But this could be our only shot at figuring out what’s going on! Especially if something paranormal is coming after us, maybe we can talk to it through the board and tell it to fuck off? Or banish it somehow?” He looks up eagerly, searching the faces of the group around him. “This could work!”

“Or it could land us in a whole new batch of trouble.” Taeil says. “It’s pretty dangerous to mess with one of these things without knowing how to properly use it.”

“No offense, but we’re pretty much in the most danger we could be at the moment. I think this is worth a try, mostly because we have no other leads right now and it’s better than being sitting ducks.” Renjun taps his chin. “By the way, Duckie, this stuff is more up your alley. Do you know anything about conducting sessions with this?”

Donghyuck’s mouth twists to the side. He squeezes Mark’s hand a little tighter. “I’ve heard a little bit, but I’ve never touched a board myself. I keep away from that stuff, because you never really know what you’re dealing with, but I can try…” He groans suddenly, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t see what the point is? Like, Taeyong said the front entrance isn’t dangerous and he seems pretty sane to me, so why not just find a way to break out of the gates?”

Lucas stares at the wolf with vacant eyes. “That doesn’t fix anything. Something is really wrong, and we can’t just run from that.” He clenches his fist by his side, the veins in his forearm standing out. “I don’t...I’m not safe in my own head. I can’t live with myself if whatever happened to me back there happens again.”

Taeyong’s gaze slides worryingly to Yuta. Lucas is right. There’s clearly something malicious targeting them, and they shouldn’t expose it to anyone else. The goal right now isn’t to escape, it’s to be set free. Right? “Yuta, what do you think?”

“I want to be whole again.” Yuta whispers. “I want to be me again.”

“Chenle, do you even have a planchette?” Renjun asks. Chenle wordlessly holds up his little oval keychain. Taeyong wants to smack himself for not recognizing the ornament earlier.

“We’re going to make things so much worse.” Donghyuck huffs. “This is a pointlessly risky move. It could _ kill _ us before we even get the chance to escape. Why are we throwing our lives away like this?”

Taeyong sighs to himself. Donghyuck sort of has a point. Where is the balance between self preservation and satisfying curiosity?

“We have to try!” Renjun protests, fist slamming against the tabletop. “For all of those that we’ve lost, we have to figure out what happened. We need to help them rest.”

“We can’t!” Jaehyun bursts, chest heaving unevenly. He looks absolutely awful, pale skin stretched across gaunt cheekbones. He shudders. “Please, please, we can’t do this! Something-- s-something bad will happen. I can feel it!”

_ PLAY? _

_ [→ Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744373) _

_ DON’T RISK IT? _

_ [→ Chapter 37 [WARNING: ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745138) _


	42. forty-two.

_ LEAVE THE GROUP _

_ → How sad. _

“You truly want me to go?” Taeyong asks shakily, eyes wide as he looks up at his group. His members.

His _ family. _

“We...we don’t want to see you go, don’t get us wrong. We l-love you Taeyong, you practically _ raised _ us.” Renjun shifts anxiously from where he’s pressed up against Mark. “But...we can’t trust you. You can see why, right?” 

The words hang in the air as Taeyong processes them. They don’t trust him. They _ can’t _trust him, and he honestly can’t blame them. Doyoung was right.

The evidence is stacked against him, and there’s nothing Taeyong can do to change what they’ve already seen. And they’ve seen Taeyong with body after body, no one ever seeing the cause of death, no one ever seeing them die except for _ him_.

It makes sense.

Perhaps Taeyong is the problem. The killer seems to be playing some twisted game of cat and mouse with him, taunting him with the cries of his members in need and sending him on wild chases only to be left with nothing but corpses in his wake. It’s always him. 

_ Killer, killer, killer_. Chenle laughs, his pretty keychain burning holes in Taeyong’s jeans.

Maybe if Taeyong disappears, the killer will follow him. Maybe if Taeyong leaves, his precious family can be safe. This could be their only chance, even if it costs Taeyong his own life.

It’s a risk he’s willing to take.

“If leaving means keeping you all safe…” Taeyong whispers to his hands, wringing them in his lap. “Then I’ll go.”

For once, the voices fall silent.

Doyoung makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut, anguish flashing over his face. “Oh. Just-- Just like that, you’ll go?”

Taeyong rises to his feet on shaking legs, head spinning and joints aching from his fall. He huffs at the way Doyoung cringes at him. He’s eerily calm now, his mind made up. “I don’t care what you think of me. I…” He jabs a finger to his chest, eyes alight with fire. “_I _know I didn’t hurt them. I would never. It pains me to know that after all we’ve been through, you don’t trust me. I can’t say I fault you for it, though.”

“Taeyong…” Donghyuck’s eyes fill to the brim with tears as Taeyong hobbles his way to the door.

Taeyong’s eyes land on Jaehyun, a chill running down his spine at the emotion in the other boy’s eyes. He wouldn’t be able to put words to it if you gave him all the encyclopedias in the world. “I don’t know what the killer wants with me, and I don’t care. If leaving means keeping you safe, I’ll do anything. _ Anything.” _ Try as he might, he can’t stop his voice from cracking on the last word.

“It’s not forever!” Jeno cries, bolting upwards. “Just until we can get out of here. Just until we can figure out what’s going on, then we can come back for you.”

Taeyong tips his head back, chuckling dryly at the wooden beamed ceiling. He already knows how this is going to end. “I’m sorry, I forgive you, and I love you. Please, never forget that.”

He rests one feeble hand on the doorknob before something crashes into his side. Taeyong grunts, resisting the primal urge to violently shove it away. Vision focusing, he recognizes the lump to be Mark, arms thrown around his waist, sobbing into Taeyong’s chest. The rings on his fingers dig into Taeyong’s ribs.

“I believe you,” Mark hiccups, too low for the rest of them to hear. “I didn’t mean what I said. I believe you. I _ trust _ you. Please, you can’t go!”

Eyes glazed over, Taeyong ruffles a hand through Mark’s hair one last time, heart wrenching for the younger boy. Out of all of them-- minus Jaehyun, of course-- he was probably the closest with Mark, having played a role model for him for many years. 

Taeyong doesn’t miss how the older members tense up the moment Taeyong touches the boy.

“Promise you’ll come back.” Mark begs thickly, fingers tightening in Taeyong’s sweatshirt. “Promise me this isn’t goodbye.”

He can’t.

_ I can’t protect you anymore_. He wants to whisper into Mark’s ear, but he bites his tongue. Better for them to think of him as the villain, for them to have a common enemy. If they suspect Taeyong, once they’ve sent him away they should feel comfort, perhaps even peace for once. If there’s one thing in his power, it’s not ruining that for them.

“Take care of them.” He mutters under his breath, unable to hold it in before stepping out of Mark’s desperate embrace. He gives a subtle nod to Doyoung, passing the torch of leadership, before once again being drawn towards Jaehyun.

Jaehyun, his boyfriend. Jaehyun, the one who sat up with him in the middle of the night, helping him through nightmares. Jaehyun, the one with the bright smile and cheesy puns. Jaehyun, the one with the wheezy laugh and the softest touches. Jaehyun, the one with the attentive gaze and loving habits.

Jaehyun, who he loves.

Jaehyun, who doesn’t meet his eyes.

_ Jaehyun, who abandoned Taeyong when he needed it most. _

The door clicks shut behind him.

“You’re on your own now, huh?” Taeyong laughs bitterly, leaning up against the thin piece of wood. He can hear Sicheng burst into sobs. “Let’s see how long you last.”

He doesn’t know who he’s talking to, himself or his family. Ex-family, he supposes, though nothing in the universe could make him ever stop loving them dearly like a family.

Never.

_ It’s for the best. _ He repeats to himself with every step he takes away from the resting area. It’s for the best. It’s for the best. It’s for the best. If he wants them to have any measly chance at surviving, he’s going to have to leave them be.

_ It’s for the best. _ He repeats to himself with every scream that rings through his eardrums, shattering his brain.

_ It’s for the best. _ He repeats to himself with every shudder, every trembling foot forward.

He knows he doesn’t stand a chance.

Hazily, Taeyong knows he should formulate a plan. He may be a sitting duck out here without a group for cover, but he can at least try to last as long as possible. 

It’s pitch black out still, and he’s left without a map and without prior knowledge of how the park should be set up. All he knows is to get as far away from the other members as possible, and stay away.

For them.

He doesn’t know their next plan of action, but it’s probably similar to what Taeyong suggested all those hours ago. Wait until morning, find some tools in the employee restricted rooms, and try to cut through the gates or fences.

Taeyong’s wandering feet eventually land him at the opposite end of the park, where all the water rides are crammed. It almost looks like a whole different park laying beyond the cheerful sign. Taeyong sighs as he trudges through. If there was any place to keep power tools capable of slicing through the front gates, it probably wouldn’t be in the water park.

Briefly, the thought of escape crosses Taeyong’s mind. What’s stopping him from searching for the tools himself, or even trying to scale the gates? He knows it didn’t work last time, but he’s really got nothing to lose anymore.

At the same time, he doesn’t want to risk interfering with the group’s plans and making things more dangerous for them. If he’s a magnet for trouble, then hiding as far away from them would be the only way to ensure their safety, right? Wasn’t that the whole reason why he left?

_ It’s for the best. _

_ HIDE IN THE WATER PARK? _

_ [→ Chapter 38](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745147) _

_ HEAD TO THE FRONT? _

_ [→ Chapter 44](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745213) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	43. forty-three.

_ GO INTO THE CONTROL ROOM _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong’s heart drops to his feet, his eyes frantically searching the scene. What does he do, what does he _ do? _

Adrenaline pumping, Taeyong’s eyes land on the small, dilapidated looking operating booth laying off to the side of the contraption. The door bangs open. It doesn’t take much longer for Taeyong to make the decision, crumbling under the weight of time.

“Hang on, Jungwoo!” His scream floats up to the boy, hopefully reaching him before the wind dismantles it with an evil grin. Taeyong slams into the tiny booth, chest heaving with exhilaration.

It’s empty. Whoever-- _ whatever _\-- turned on the machine has deserted their post.

“Okay. Okay.” Taeyong mumbles to himself, fingers fluttering around the multitude of buttons on the switchboard. “I’ve just got to find the one that turns this thing off. How hard can it be?”

Apparently, very hard.

Taeyong squints out the tinted windows, trying to get a glimpse of where Jungwoo is trapped on it. He gulps. He’s lost sight of the boy.

The dashboard is filled to the brim with different brightly lit colors, all flashing and buzzing in his face. There’s an uncomfortably high pitched whine coming from the side of the control board where it looks like it was dented in.

Horrified, Taeyong realizes the grooves spanning from button to button aren’t there for any functional purpose. They’re fingernail scratches, so deep and desperate they almost look like claw marks, flecks of blood caught on sharp chunks of metal.

Taeyong doesn’t have time to worry about this.

Frustrated, he punches a square yellow button near the top of the switchboard. The lights on the machine flash faster. Great, he found the strobe light button. If half the switches and levers were useless like that, he would just smash them all in hopes of finding the right one, but for all he knows there could be a goddamn self destruct button on this thing. 

“There’s got to be an emergency brake in here somewhere, right?” Surely they can’t just have a crazy dangerous ride and not build some sort of safety system? Taeyong sits back in the worn leather of the operators seat with a sigh.

_ I’m coming, Jungwoo. _ He bites his lip. _ I promise. _

Leaning forward to inspect the buttons again, Taeyong’s leg brushes up against something he hadn’t noticed before. There’s a _ cabinet _ hidden underneath the dashboard. Taeyong drops to his knees, tugging at it. There must be something in there!

The cabinet doors are tied up with a padlock, but luckily it’s old and rotted and doesn’t protest much as Taeyong rips it away. There’s also something to be said for the surge of superhuman strength guardians can gain when their loved one is in danger.

Taeyong is no mother lifting a car off her child, but he’s getting pretty fucking close to it.

He throws the rickety doors open, eyes landing on the lever hidden in the far back. It’s black and blends in against the night, but there’s reflective tape on the floor it’s mounted on that, blessedly, isn’t completely scratched off.

_ Emergency. _

“Finally!” Taeyong lets out a groan as he pulls at the lever. It’s probably never been used in it’s whole existence, so there’s quite a lot of resistance there. Taeyong doesn’t stop trying. He braces his feet against the cabinet doors, tugging with all his might.

“I _ promised!” _ Taeyong grunts, swallowing his sobs as he finally feels the lever give way. The dashboard goes dark, spluttering. The machine outside has gone silent as well. Taeyong hoists himself up on faint legs, stumbling out of the claustrophobic space. “Jungwoo!”

He’s just in time to see Jungwoo, trapped at the highest point of the machine, slip out of place.

“No...” Taeyong breathes, briefly rooted to the ground in shock. “N-_ No!” _ His feet unstick, sending him hurtling towards the falling form, tripping over himself in his haste.

_ Please, please, please. I can’t lose another one. _

Taeyong’s feet pound into the dirt, legs trembling with fear and exhaustion. His mind has shut off, ice cold terror flooding his veins and fueling his sprint. His breaths come in shallow puffs, his vision spotty and blood rushing in his ears as his body is pushed to its limits. And it isn’t enough. 

It isn’t enough.

_ I’m so sorry. _ Taeyong watches in abject horror as Jungwoo’s body lands with a sickening crunch. 

“_JUNGWOO_!” He sobs, tumbling onto his knees a few feet short of the body. He howls in grief, crawling towards the boy on his hands and knees.

Jungwoo is laying on his side, neck crooked back at an unnatural angle. His left arm is thrown over his body, his right splayed out to the side as if he’s reaching for something.

_ Lucas. _ Taeyong thinks, scrubbing the tears from his face.

Jungwoo’s legs are crumpled somewhere underneath him-- Taeyong can’t even tell with how badly they’re crushed. Slowly, he reaches two trembling fingers out to push at the broken boy’s shoulder. He limply rolls flat onto his back, unresponsive.

“J-Jungwoo…” Taeyong repeats over and over again, tears splattering onto the boys body. He presses an ear to his chest.

Nothing.

Kun finds him crouched over Jungwoo’s corpse, screaming and screaming and screaming his head off to anyone who will listen. It takes three people to drag Taeyong away from the scene of the crime. 

Taeyong feels like his vision is doubling, tripling, disappointed stares everywhere he looks. Everything seems a bit out of focus, smudged against the backdrop of night.

“I promised him.” Taeyong croaks to whoever is holding him up. He can’t tell who it is. He doesn’t want to know. “I promised.”

_ You failed. _ The light voice behind him dips with anger, the grip on his arms tightening a bit. Taeyong’s head rolls back, his grip on reality weakening. Jungwoo stares sadly back at him, his head twisted all the way around.

“I’m sorry!” Taeyong struggles to get air into his lungs, choking on his cries. “I’m so sorry! Please, forgive me!” He begs. Jungwoo’s face only sours with displeasure, chuckling darkly.

_ You know, Lucas said the same thing. _

“Wh-- no, _ no _ , please! Please I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry!” Taeyong slams his forehead into the dirt, fingers scratching at his face in agony. He feels the nausea clawing at his stomach. “_Please!” _

“Hey, hey! Taeyong, stop it!” The hands on his arms squeeze tighter the more Taeyong flails, Jungwoo’s empty eyes haunting his every waking moment.

“_Y__ongie!” _

The images in Taeyong’s mind start to dissolve at the feeling of a soft hand caressing his cheek. With a groan, he reaches up to cover it with his own hand. “Jae?”

The figure above him huffs softly. “No, it’s just me. It’s Doyoung.” Taeyong squints, craning his neck back as the person slowly comes into focus.

“Oh. Doie.” Taeyong says blankly, still reeling. “W-Where’s Jae?”

_ Not him, please don’t take him too, please please please-- _

Doyoung sighs heavily, resting his chin on the top of Taeyong’s head. He’s got Taeyong’s arms locked behind him to prevent Taeyong from doing damage to himself-- or anyone else. “Jaehyun is with the others, dealing with the...situation.”

Taeyong’s brain stutters at the thought. The situation. Of course. They’ve had another death, and the blood is all on Taeyong’s hands.

_ It’s all my fault. _

Doyoung cringes a little bit, biting his lip. “Are...are you going to start freaking out again?”

Immediately, the guilt pours into Taeyong’s stomach like hot tar. They’re all going through a difficult time, his younger brothers taking things harder than anyone, and here Taeyong is throwing tantrums on the ground and forcing them to restrain him? Even worse, it’s _ Doyoung _\-- next to Lucas, he was the closest one with Jungwoo.

“Let go of me, Doie.” Taeyong says calmly, controlling his breathing. “I said let go!”

Startled, Doyoung releases Taeyong, allowing him to fall forwards a bit. Doyoung sits back on his heels, steeling himself for whatever Taeyong’s next move could be.

Taeyong wants to cry. He’s scary, unpredictable, a ticking time bomb to his brothers. That’s not who he wants to be at all. He wants to be strong, wants to be someone they can come to when they’re scared. 

He wants Johnny and Taeil.

“I’m fine, Doyoung. Are-- Are you okay?”

Doyoung looks taken aback at the question, blinking owlishly. “Me?”

Taeyong nods firmly, moving his hand over Doyoung’s and rubbing small circles into the back of the boy’s hand. He pretends not to be hurt that Doyoung’s first instinct is to flinch away from him.

_ I can fix this. _

Doyoung looks guarded. “I’m okay.”

_ I can still fix this, I swear. I can do it. _

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know.” Taeyong says gently, sore muscles pushing him onto his feet. He sways from how weak his body is, but he stubbornly refuses Doyoung’s help.

Doyoung blinks at him. “I know; I just watched you completely lose it for nearly twenty minutes. I’m not a child.”

Taeyong doesn’t miss the way Doyoung ducks his head, swiping at tears he refuses to let fall. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that it’s better to let Doyoung come to him. 

He just hopes he will.

He lets Doyoung lead him back to the rest of the group. They’ve taken Jungwoo’s thin jacket off and laid it across his body to give him all the privacy and respect that they can manage.

Taeyong heads straight into Jaehyun’s arms. The boy holds him close, but there’s a stiffness to his movements, a glassiness to his eyes that sets off unease deep in the knots of Taeyong’s stomach. He doesn’t fault the poor boy for it. They’ve all seen something they’d rather not see.

Chenle also looks off, skin covered with sweat and back held ramrod straight. His little keychain is clenched in his hands so tightly Taeyong’s afraid it’ll break. They all deal with grief differently, and with the amount of death they’ve all seen in the past few hours, Taeyong doesn’t blame them that they’re starting to shut down.

_ You are, too. And fast. _ Jungwoo supplies helpfully.

“Taeyong…” Jaehyun’s voice comes gravelly and deep in his ear. “You’ve got to tell us what happened.”

_ What happened, Taeyong? _ Jungwoo whines mournfully, _ What did you do to me? _

And Taeyong does. He covers from when he first heard the strange noises, to investigating them, to the strange little control room, to trying to catch Jungwoo. With each word that spills out of his mouth, his own mind unable match emotion to words, Jaehyun’s arms squeeze him a bit tighter.

“Too tight, Jae.” Taeyong pats at the arm wound around his chest, but the arm only winds tighter, forcing Taeyong to hit at it harder and harder. Jaehyun releases him after a short gasp. 

Jisung buries his face in Chenle’s shoulder, tears dampening the thin material. “Jungwoo…” He hiccups.

Jeno braces himself, nails digging into his palms. “What do we do now?”

Taeyong feels dizzy. Once again they must just move on with their lives, try to keep each other safe until they can find some way out, figure out how to get help.

Taeyong reaches out to gather the shaking Jisung in his arms. The boy is way too tall for him to do that comfortably, but yet he seems so small, so young in Taeyong’s embrace.

“We’ll go back to the lodge. We stick with the original plan. Stay put, don’t go anywhere without telling someone, and we’ll send for help in the morning.” Ten decides. Taeyong nods tiredly at him. That’s all they can really do at this point.

Jaehyun and Mark gently lead Taeyong by the elbows back into the lodge. He hates it-- hates feeling like a burden, hates feeling like someone who needs looking after, but he can’t shake the feeling of Jungwoo’s soulless eyes tracking him.

Taeyong can’t sleep.

He saw to it that each and every member went to sleep, sitting by the ill-looking member’s sides and holding each of their hands until they drifted off. He checked all of the windows and doors and made sure that the arcade was secure, no obvious fault wiring to the games or anything else that could cause them damage. They should be safe, at least for the rest of the night. As long as everyone stays put.

He had watched as the glow on Jaehyun’s phone slowly went dim, the boy’s breathing evening out. He had been on it for the better part of an hour, the flash sometimes going off at random. He didn’t have the energy to ask why Jaehyun was taking pictures of them.

He wouldn’t have told Taeyong anyways.

Taeyong chews on his lip. Some of the members are acting straight up weird. There was Jaehyun’s mini meltdown earlier, and then when he was putting everyone to bed he turned around to find Kun curled up on the ground, shivering. Taeyong watched him for a few moments, confused. He had his hands held out, palms close to his face, and was just staring into them, wiggling them slightly. He didn’t move for a full three minutes until Taeyong disturbed him, gently pulling the jacket over his shoulders.

Taeyong shivers. Kun’s eyes were so bloodshot, his veins visible webbing up across his gaunt cheeks.

Deep breaths. Taeyong can’t sleep. He tries counting sheep, but something keeps slaughtering them the minute they cross over the fence.

_ I’m sorry. _ Taeyong offers up to the sky. _ I failed you, Jungwoo. _

_ You don’t deserve forgiveness. _Lucas smiles with his lips curled back, teeth sharp and pointed.

Taeyong blinks and it’s Jaemin now, crouched at the foot of his makeshift bed, eyes gleaming in the dark. Taeyong swallows hard as Jaemin’s jaw unhinges.

_ Why, Taeyong? _ Is all he whimpers as blood oozes out of the millions of tiny holes pricked all over his body. _ Why, Taeyong? _

Taeyong’s fingers curl into his jacket, his chest spluttering as Jaemin advances on him.

Jaemin was such a sweet boy, so full of light and love. He was overflowing with affection and positive energy, always one to attack one of his members with hugs and kisses and words of encouragement. He was always showering them with lavish gifts, matching sentimental jewelry and books and shirts and things that _ meant _something. He truly, truly cared. Taeyong has never met another boy with such passion, such a genuine drive to help people in need and be there for those he loved. 

Why did he have to die?

_ Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? Why, Taeyong? _

Why did Taeyong have to get him killed?

_ WHY, TAEYONG? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? _

“Taeyong!”

Taeyong bolts up in the dark, heaving. He can’t see anything, Jaemin’s blood red tears fading from sight. He listens carefully, able to pick out his members’ breathing in the dark. Nothing sounds out of place or concerning.

“Taeyong!”

That was definitely a call to him. Taeyong hoists himself up, poised to run. His muscles tense, heart beating fast. After a few seconds, he hears it again, strained and desperate.

_ “Taeyong!” _

Taeyong doesn’t think twice about leaving this time. He doesn’t care what happens to him, doesn’t care about the rules anymore. If he can save one of his brothers, it’ll all be worth it.

He can fix this.

Taeyong hesitantly steps outside, jumping at every sound. His eyes land uneasily on the smoking ride across the way. That’s not where the cry came from, though.

_ Crack! _

A sound like shattering glass pierces his ears, accompanied by a cut off scream. Taeyong’s legs are already moving, carrying him to the source. He’s running for a few seconds, down a thin path hidden more towards the back of the park. His anxiety builds the more he leaves the lodge behind, but he can’t just let this go.

They were calling for him, after all.

Taeyong’s feet deposit him in front of a warped looking structure. It’s rather large building, at least three stories high with turrets, balconies, and colorful banners hung everywhere. There’s an odd looking tube spanning most of the top floor. The rest of the architecture has weird swoops and loops, the patterns on the walls swirling and changing every few feet. The tiny opening has a huge red awning flanking it, boasting:

** FUNHOUSE **

  
  


_ INVESTIGATE? _

_ [→ Chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744808) _

  
  
  


_ IT’S CUTE THAT YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHOICE, TAEYONG._

_ [→ Chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744808) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	44. forty-four.

_ HEAD TO THE FRONT _

_ → Curiosity killed the cat, you know. _

Taeyong fiddles with his fingers for a few seconds, rubbing anxiously at Chenle’s keychain before turning on his heel. He sighs lightly as he heads in the opposite direction. He truly doesn’t have anything to lose.

He’s going to die either way. Why not at least attempt to save himself?

He doesn’t have to die a coward.

Taeyong skirts as far away from the group’s resting area as he can, giving them as wide a berth as the park paths allow. He can only pray that they’ll stay put, biding their time until morning. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do if they crossed paths at this point.

It doesn’t take him too long to reach the front entrances of the park, easily squeezing over the turnstiles. He shivers. The emptiness of the whole place still gets to him, all the unmanned employee booths and burnt out neon lights.

Taeyong comes face to face with his target-- the giant looming gate. “God.” He groans, running his fingertips along the rough metal bars. “What kind of a theme park has security like this?”

It must have been installed to add to the spooky atmosphere of the park. Taeyong crosses to the right side of the gate where the hinges should be, mouth twisting in displeasure when he finds them. They’re old and rusty, and don’t look like they intend to budge under any force less than that of a bulldozer. They must not use these gates often.

Unease swirls in his stomach. So how did they get here?

“If I can’t go around...” Taeyong squints at the gap between the bars. It’s probably less than the length of his hand. “And I can’t go through…” He cranes his neck back to examine the jagged tops of the bars. “Then I’ll have to go over.”

Somehow.

He rubs his hands together, searching the area for inspiration. Jisung had already tried and failed to climb it. He doesn’t have the tools necessary to bend or cut the metal, and it’s too risky to go looking. 

Perhaps there’s a ladder somewhere in the park that he can use. He’d have to vault himself over the top to avoid the spikes, but it would be doable. 

A fall from that height surely wouldn’t _ kill _him, right?

_ Killer, killer, killer! _Johnny drawls.

Taeyong combs the area, looking for anything that could prop him up far enough until he could swing himself over the top. There’s nothing around the entrances, which sort of makes sense. Defeated, he resorts to dipping back into the park. He won’t go far, just to the first roller coaster. There must be a ladder there in case of construction, right?

He groans, arms folded in frustration at the sight of stairs built into the side of the roller coaster track. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

The heavens choose that moment to open up, freezing rain drizzling from the skies. Taeyong shudders as the cold goes straight to his bones, heading for cover by one of the game booths.

A chill worse than rain could ever bring vibrates through the walls of Taeyong’s heart as he recognizes the area he’s taken shelter in. He remembers ducking behind the counter of this booth before-- to grab rope.

This is where Lucas was killed.

Taeyong sticks his head out into the rain, peeking around the corner. He can just barely see a hand laying out in the rain, the crusted blood beginning to melt away from the creases of its fingers. 

“I’m sorry, Xuxi.” Taeyong murmurs, unable to look any further. “It wasn’t you, was it.” Guilt swirls deep in his chest, but something else floats to the top.

An idea.

He re-focuses his attention on the booth, scanning it from top to bottom. Taeyong crouches, fingers flying over every inch of the shelves, searching for more of the rope used to hang the prizes from the ceiling. If he can’t get a ladder, maybe a rope will do the job.

He sifts through plushie after plushie in the stocks, moaning in frustration as his search turns up nothing. He didn’t realize it at the time, but he and Jaehyun must have used up all of it in tying Lucas up.

_ Jaehyun. _A pang resonates within him at the name. 

Taeyong pushes his soaked fringe out of his eyes, biting his lip. He’ll just have to reuse what he has. He crawls out into the downpour, knees sinking into the softening mud. He remembers tossing the rope aside when they found Lucas, but at the time he had more important things to worry about than where it landed.

Heart in his throat, Taeyong approaches the body, trying to keep his eyes focused on the ground. It must be around here somewhere.

Finally, he spots the waterlogged cord laying dangerously close to the outstretched arm. Taeyong gulps, squeezing his eyes shut as he inches closer.

He can’t look. He can’t look. He can’t bear to be faced with his mistakes any longer.

The feeling of the wet ground underneath his fingertips changes, and Taeyong holds his breath as he opens his eyes.

_ Please don’t be Lucas. Please don’t be Lucas. _ He begs the world.

_ Killer, killer, killer! _Lucas responds.

Blessedly, the object under Taeyong’s hands isn’t a body part. He got what he came here for, looping the cord around his forearm a few times to make it easier to transport.

His cracked open eyes catch an odd glimmer in the corner of his vision. He leans a little closer, getting glimpse of something that shakes him to his core before he can turn around and flee. His stomach drops like a stone, lungs squeezing with terror.

Did Lucas always have rings on his right hand?

Taeyong runs. He runs because he can feel hostile eyes boring into his back. He runs with all his dwindling strength because he no longer knows what lays behind him. Surely that was Lucas’s body. Of course it was. 

It couldn’t be anyone else, right?

_ Killer, killer, killer! _

Chest heaving, Taeyong makes it back to the front entrance with his sanity hanging by a thread. His head throbs with screaming, his heart drowning in sorrow. With trembling fingers, he tries to fashion a lasso out of the rope. The knot keeps falling apart. Taeyong is starting to really regret quitting Boy Scouts after two weeks.

He wails in frustration as the rain beats down harder, frantically pulling the cord this way and that. He’s losing precious time. Who knows what the killer could be doing out there, who he could be targeting next?

_ It should be me. _ Taeyong thinks as he finally secures a decent knot. _ It should be me, but I can’t say for sure. _

Taeyong backs up. Near the top of the gate, right before the metal sharpens into spikes, there is a horizontal bar that connects all the vertical ones. If he can catch the loop of the cable around one of the spikes, the junction of the horizontal and vertical bars should stop it from falling down the length of the gate.

With a grunt, he throws the rope as hard as he can, stumbling forward with the effort. It falls dramatically short again and again. Taeyong’s heart is left hammering in his chest, the lack of food and sleep beginning to disastrously affect his coordination.

He breathes in slowly. He can do this. He _ has _to do this.

_ KILLER, KILLER, KILLER! _

With an animalistic scream, stress pounding through his bloodstream, Taeyong finally manages to launch the rope high enough to snag on the top of the gate. He tugs on it a little to test the strength of the knot. It’s not great, especially when the material is covered with mud and rain, but it’ll do.

He’ll just have to be quick.

Trying to keep his balance in check, Taeyong places the sole of his sneaker high up against one of the bars, bracing himself with the rope. With a small cry he hops the other foot up, locking his knees. The cord is the only thing suspending him above the ground. His ankle smarts at the pressure, still sore from his stunt on the funhouse balcony.

_ Stay calm. _ He chants in his head, louder than all the voices screeching their death sentences to him. _ Stay calm. Slow and steady. _

He moves his hands a little further up the rope, feet matching pace a few seconds after as he hauls himself up. He shimmies up carefully, limbs weakening dangerously when he thinks about how far off the ground he is. 

Arms protesting under the force of his weight, Taeyong finally approaches the top. He doesn’t know how long he’s been climbing, can’t count the number of times he’d fallen and had to start fresh. The pain of the bruises blooming on his sides is dulled by the adrenaline as he reaches for the top.

This could kill him.

His left foot suddenly fails to find purchase on the rain slicked gates, slipping off. His right foot follows soon after, leaving him dangling above the hungry earth.

_ KILLERKILLERKILLER _

Taeyong’s shoulders jolt as he slides down a few inches, the rope shuddering in his grasp. What in the world? He tilts his chin up, peering through the sleets of rain. His throat tightens.

His shitty knot is gradually giving way.

His body seizes in panic, muscles spasming as he tries to swing himself back to safety. His fingernails feel like they’re going to be torn off, digging desperately into the rough material.

Taeyong gasps, fingering scrambling to keep hold of the slippery rope as the knot unravels. He can see the cord splintering below it. 

Taeyong stops breathing. His mind clears suddenly, the sun peeking out from behind the storm clouds wreaking havoc in his mind.

_ KILLER! KILLER! KILLER! KILLER! KILLER! _They howl at him. 

The solution is so obvious.

_ YOU KILLED US! YOU KILLED US! YOU KILLED US! _

He could just let go.

_ “I believe you,” Mark hiccups, too low for the rest of them to hear. “I didn’t mean what I said. I believe you. I trust you. Please, you can’t go!” _

He could end this nightmare.

_ “Promise you’ll come back.” Mark begs thickly, fingers tightening in Taeyong’s sweatshirt. “Promise me this isn’t goodbye.” _

“I promise.” He whispers to the wind, praying it carries his fragile message back to the younger boy.

Tears mixing with the rain pouring down his cheeks, Taeyong erupts with a scream as he pushes off from the gate. He uses the last of his strength to yank as hard as he can on the rope, muscles alight with fire, head swimming and body filled with static.

The knot dissolves into nothingness.

The thinning patch of rope below it snaps under the weight, but it’s just enough to send Taeyong hurtling over the top, the spiked edges only slightly grazing his back.

Unfortunately, he did not devise a plan for getting down.

_ I promise_, echoes in his mind, the voices finally falling silent as Taeyong plummets towards the earth.

_ I promise, _ are the last words through his lips as he slams into the mud, body crumpling and bones crunching below him.

_ I promise. _ Limbs heavy and numbed, Taeyong allows the darkness to pull him in.

**B A D E N D**

_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745063#workskin) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 42](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745192) _

  


**B A D E N D**

**B A D E N D**

**B A D E N D**

**B A D E N D?**

**B A D E N D?**

**B A D E N D?**

  


**NO**

**B A D E N D?**

  


**NO!**

  
  


**E N D?**

  


**I PROMISED**

  


**I PROMISED**

  
  
  


**I PROMISED**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**I PROMISED**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**I P R O M I S E D**

  
  
  
  


_ Taeyong covers his ears, but the screeching vanishes in a second, replaced by a garbled, foreign sounding melody. _

  
  
  
  
  


I owe it you all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Let’s wake up! _

  
  
  
  
  


_________________________

  
  


When Taeyong finally comes to, there are no faces floating in his vision-- friendly or otherwise. His head is silent, and he’s utterly, painfully, alone.

But he’s alive.

His head feels woozy, his ears stuffed with cotton. He can barely hear, barely see more than thick blobs, droplets of rain sliding down his chin. 

Is he bleeding? He runs his dirtied hands over his body, but he can’t tell what’s fresh and what’s old, what’s his and what isn’t.

Most of it isn’t.

But he’s _ alive. _

Taeyong rolls over onto his back, resisting the urge to vomit into the squelching mud because he doesn’t know what would come up if he did. There’s a deep ache in his bones, settling in beside the chill of the rain. His joints cry as he moves, forearms shuddering as he tries to support himself. He bends his knees, trying to rock himself up.

He sure feels like he’s dead.

His leg completely buckles beneath him the moment he tries to stand up. He lays on the ground again, gasping as rain fills his open mouth.

“Okay,” Taeyong groans to himself, trying to keep his racing heart in his chest. “Okay, this is fine. I’m alive, I’m okay, I’ve escaped, and I’m going to get us help.” He repeats this to himself because these are facts. These are the only things he can trust, the only things keeping him grounded.

_ I’m alive. _Taeyong shifts onto his hands and knees, crawling towards the road. He doesn’t bother trying to find their van, shrouded in darkness. The car keys are with Johnny, drifting in three feet of grimy water under the watchful gaze of cheery animatronic dolls.

_ I’m okay. _The gravel presses deep into his ruined legs, slicing open his delicate skin. He can’t feel it.

_ I’ve escaped. _ He hobbles out onto the open road, waiting with wide eyes for a car to pass by. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever come, considering it must be far past midnight by now. He would try to call for help, but knows it’s fruitless. Even if his phone was released from whatever odd entity had a hold of it, it smashed in his pocket in his crash landing, glass shards marking up his hips.

_ I’m going to get us help. _Bright headlights reflect in his teary eyes, cutting through the thick sheets of rain. Taeyong gasps, breaths shallow as he throws himself in front of the car, screaming for all he’s worth.

_ Don’t worry, help is coming. _The driver is yelling at him, but he can’t find it in himself to give a flying fuck. As soon as her eyes land on his mangled body, she screams for a different reason.

_ Please, hang on a little longer. _ Red and blue flashing lights blind him as sirens pierce his ears. The nice lady is crying now, sobbing for him to stay awake. He can’t help it, though. He just feels so _ tired. _

_ Pull it together, Taeyong! _His heart lurches, and he bolts up from the ground. “My brothers!” He babbles to the nearest officer. “Please, you need to find my brothers! They’re in the park! We couldn’t-- we couldn’t get the gate open, you’ll have to cut through it. Please, someone’s trying to hurt them!”

The officer turns away from him, speaking lowly into her walkie talkie. She nods at him. “I’ll send a team in right away. Can you tell me your name?”

As a matter of fact, he can’t. Words keep spilling out of his mouth, but they’re nothing more than pleas and apologies and words of mourning and he can’t control any of it.

He needs to find his brothers. He escaped, but they’re still stuck there. Hysterical, he tries to press himself up, but a hand on his shoulder keeps him down.

“Stop!” He writhes in their grasp. “Let me go! I need to find them! I need to-- t-to save--” His sentence deteriorates into whimpers. His vision keeps blurring, his heart weakening. Is he bleeding? Is he dying?

He can’t see.

“Sir, we’re going to need you to stay here.” The paramedic says, laying a hand flat on Taeyong’s chest to push him down. She looks a little frazzled, beckoning for her first aid kit. Taeyong looks down, and oh. He does look pretty scary, all drenched in blood.

“It’s not mine.” He mumbles as if that would make anything better. His jaw feels heavy, and he feels like he’s speaking around a mouthful of molasses. The paramedic doesn’t flinch at his statement. Did he say it out loud? God, he hopes he didn’t. That probably wouldn’t help his case.

“Are they looking?” He asks weakly, wincing as the paramedic applies a stinging cream to his leg. Oh. He probably is bleeding then.

She nods with a disarming smile that somehow only heightens Taeyong’s anxiety. It’s all he has to hold onto, though, so he clings to it as he slips away.

_________________________

When Taeyong comes around, it is to the sight of officers leading a pack of worn out teenagers around the corner. He feels a glimmer of pride spark in his chest. His boys stuck together, knowing to trust the authorities as they combed through the park in search of the missing kids.

Taeyong’s stomach flutters with anxiety as they get closer. He can separate Doyoung’s worried face from the crowd.

“Taeyong? Where’s Jaehyun?!” Doyoung shouts frantically, eyes roaming over Taeyong’s prone body.

Taeyong’s world slams to a halt. “W-What do you mean where’s Jaehyun?”

“He left us! He said he was going after you!”

Taeyong screams as his boys are shepherded away from him, into different vehicles. He screams as Doyoung’s gaunt face disappears from his vision, the other boy panicking just as much. He screams as he feels a needle prick his arm.

“We’re moving you to a stretcher, okay?” The paramedic informs him as if he has a choice, waving for them to bring one over. If they deemed him okay enough to transport, he must not be that bad, right? 

He can’t feel anything.

“I don’t need a...stretchie.” He slurs, mind hazy. He can’t quite put his thoughts together. “I needa see...needa see my brothers.”

Did they give him something? He can’t focus. Limbs like jelly, he allows them to load him onto one of the ambulances, head lolling around on his shoulders. Distantly, he can hear Sicheng’s soft voice.

His bloodstained fingers grip the curtain cutting him off from the rest of the truck, tugging it aside to reveal Sicheng holed up in the cot next to him. 

There isn’t enough room for more than two injured patients on the vehicle. Taeyong prays that the rest of them don’t need it.

“Hi.” He says. Sicheng smiles wryly at him, trembling fingers gently laying on top of his.

“Hi.”

Taeyong passes out again.

_________________________

_ This is getting annoying. _ He thinks as he surfaces. This time he finds himself in a small, clean room. The machine by his side beeps incessantly. Taeyong’s eyes trace the tubes in his arms up to their respective machines. His leg is in a sling. This doesn’t look good.

“Hospital?” He croaks, throat cracked and dry. His head pounds.

“Yeah.” Taeyong turns at the familiar voice, heart leaping into his throat. Doyoung is sitting up in the bed next to him, scribbling aimlessly onto a pad of paper.

“Doie.” He breathes. Doyoung doesn’t react, but a tear drops onto the dampening paper.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Taeyong tries to get up, but his body feels so heavy. He shifts himself onto his side a bit, groaning at the pain shooting up his legs. “Why are you sorry?”

“I accused you.” Doyoung whispers brokenly. “It wasn’t you, was it?”

“What makes you say that?”

Doyoung lets out a long, withering sigh, voice tinged with remorse. “Kicking you out didn’t solve anything. After you left, it was...chaos. Everyone was crying and we couldn’t get anything under control. I tried so hard, I really did. I assigned everyone into pairs, but that didn’t help. Mark--” Doyoung’s voice cracks.

_ Vision focusing, he recognizes the lump to be Mark, arms thrown around his waist, sobbing into Taeyong’s chest. _

Taeyong holds his breath.

_ The rings on his fingers dig into Taeyong’s ribs. _

“Mark disappeared. We couldn’t find him.”

_ Did Lucas always have rings on his right hand? _

“No…” Taeyong whines, clutching the stiff hospital sheets. “_ No!” _

Doyoung flinches, picking at the skin on his hands. “Jaehyun disappeared at the same time. He said he was going to look for you. I don’t know whether he thought you hurt Mark, or if he was mad that we threw you out and wanted to bring you back. I don’t...I don’t know what he was going to do.”

_ He runs because he can feel eyes boring into his back. _

“I don’t know either.” Taeyong says weakly.

“Throwing you out only made things worse, and I’m sorry. I knew you could’ve never hurt Mark. You couldn’t have hurt any of us.”

The unspoken, _ so who did? _ lingers in the room.

“...How did you escape, anyways?” Doyoung asks. He doesn’t meet Taeyong’s eyes.

Taeyong sinks back into the hard bed, body melting away. “I jumped.” He says with a small smile, “And I fell real hard.”

“You _ jumped _ over that thing? What the fuck, Taeyong!”

“What can I say, I’ve got strong calves. _ Really _ strong.” He deadpans.

Doyoung snorts out a small laugh, the first hint of joy Taeyong has seen since they were all singing their hearts out to What is Love on the bus. “No, really. How did you do it? Even Jisung couldn’t climb it, and he’s got the limbs of a spider.”

“I hauled myself up with a rope.” It sounds a lot less terrifying saying it like that.

Doyoung sits back with an incredulous sigh. “That’s all it would’ve taken, huh.”

Taeyong understands. 

If only they had taken a risk like that earlier. The impact may have shattered half the bones in Taeyong’s body, but he’d break them all again and again if it meant keeping _ all _ his boys safe from harm.

If only.

Taeyong allows the comfortable silence to sit for a few moments before asking the question itching at the back of his mind. “So...are Mark and Jaehyun okay?”

Doyoung frowns. “Mark...he was found stabbed around where Lucas was, but the authorities were _ just _able to save him in time. He lost a lot of blood. He’s unconscious right now, and I don’t know when he’ll wake up. Or...if.”

Taeyong lets out a cautious sigh of relief. Okay. Okay, he can work with that. Mark may not wake up, but at least they have hope. He can speak to one of the doctors later.

Mark has a fighting chance, and Taeyong will do his damnedest to keep it that way. He doesn’t have to let go of his baby just yet. 

However, Taeyong’s relief is cut short by the next words out of Doyoung’s mouth.

“They never found Jaehyun.”

  
  
  
  
_________________________

Most of the boys were quickly discharged from the hospital, Taeyong staying for a few more days for his leg until he was cleared to leave with some crutches.

Things back at the dorm are...tense. No more tragedy had befallen them since Mark and Jaehyun had disappeared, but there’s something about the lack of closure that hurts worse than anything.

Taeyong gently pushes the door open to Chenle’s room. “Sungie, it’s time for dinner.”

Jisung is where he normally is— curled up in a ball on Chenle’s floor, cuddling with one of his stuffed animals. “I’m not hungry.” He whines. His fingertips are trailing across a thin piece of wood.

Jisung hasn’t eaten for days. He refuses to.

“What is that?”

Jisung turns his face into the plushie. “...board.” He says, voice muffled by the soft fur. “Chenle’s favorite game. I shouldn’t have played with him, though. They warned me about this.”

Chenle’s keychain hangs from his waist. He never takes it off.

Taeyong shivers at the ominous words but ultimately brushes it off. Now isn’t the time to grill the emotionally unstable boy. He sighs, leaning down to scoop the kid up. Jisung doesn’t protest. He’s been a blank slate ever since they returned home.

It didn’t take too long for Taeyong’s boys to trust him again. He supposes leaving made them all realize that he was innocent, ironically. He reassumes his position as leader, trying his hardest to restore life to normal even as he struggles to work out funeral plans and memorials. 

Mark, blessedly, had woken up. He had to spend another few weeks in the hospital to recover from his wounds, but he would be coming home soon.

Taeyong just doesn’t know what kind of ‘home’ he’ll be returning to.

He ushers Jisung out into the kitchen, loitering in the hallway for a few moments. He ducks into the bathroom for a quick breather, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the mirror. 

_ Taeyong swears he can still see the red eyes wink, the knife flash as he whirls around. “Leave us alone!” He shrieks, fists pounding relentlessly on the mirrors in front of him. _

He’s losing it.

He’s stranded, drifting aimlessly without the members he would usually confide in. All the other older members are struggling enough, and the dreamies are unbelievably fragile. He’s completely alone, and tearing at the seams.

This is hell.

Taeyong was never trained for this.

_________________________

  
  
  
  


Jaehyun doesn’t come home.

  
  
  
  


_________________________

The rough pages of the newspaper crinkle in Yuta’s hands. The dreamies are huddled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their heads. Sicheng sits across from Yuta, fingernails tapping against the ceramic of his mug. Taeyong has his knees drawn up to his chest, perched on top of the kitchen counter because there are no rules anymore.

“They’re shutting it down.” Sicheng says softly, drained of any emotion. Taeyong knows he’s talking about the amusement park. What else would it be?

Taeyong may not have died there, but he knows he stopped living the moment they crossed through those gates.

Yuta lays the newspaper down on the cold wood. The headline exclaims, ** _ANOTHER DEAD IN INCHEON AMUSEMENT PARK DISASTER-- FAULTY MACHINERY, OR COLD BLOODED KILLER?_ **

Sicheng’s nails abruptly stop tapping. It’s a few minutes before he dares to speak. “Yuta, what did we leave there?”

_ Killer, killer, killer. _

Taeyong gazes down at his new phone. Jaehyun had shared his iCloud photo library with him.

“I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

  
  


_________________________

  


Mark comes home. They press for answers, but he doesn’t say a word.

  


_________________________

  


Taeyong thumbs through his shared photos late at night, trying to distract himself from the crying coming from the next room.

He swipes to the end of the photos taken from that night, savoring his last images of his boys. It’s bittersweet. Fingers on autopilot, he tries to click to the next photo. 

Oddly enough, the request goes through. Taeyong bolts up, fear thrumming through his bloodstream. There shouldn’t be any new pictures.

Jaehyun’s phone is dead. _ Jaehyun _ is dead. 

So why is there a photo of a shark-like grin, reflected in one of the damned funhouse mirrors, uploaded just minutes ago?

**N E U T R A L E N D **

_PLAY AGAIN?_

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_LAST CHOICE?_

_ [→ Chapter 42](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745192) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	45. forty-five.

_ WOUND JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

“I-I _ can’t_!” Taeyong wails. “You can’t ask me to do this to you, Jae! You can’t! I-- I love you too much!”

_ I need you. _

Jaehyun’s eyes keep flickering between wild and bloodshot to normal and teary. “Please. I can’t suppress her much longer! _ Please!_” Jaehyun’s body starts to convulse again, his fingers clawing deeper and deeper into the dirt.

“_You need to save everyone else!” _

With a whimper, Taeyong picks up a sharp stick. 

_ I have to. _

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, he lunges forward with an agonized cry and stabs it deep into Jaehyun’s thigh, pulling it so that it tears far down. Jaehyun howls in pain, but it doesn’t sound like him at all. The scream is amplified and deep, far raspier than Jaehyun’s voice. His jaw snaps shut abruptly, cutting off the blood curdling sound. He thrashes and thrashes on the ground, spitting blood and cursing Taeyong out endlessly.

It’s not Jaehyun in there right now.

The body on the ground arches its back and _ screams_, blood flying everywhere. He can hear a bit of Jaehyun breaking through on that one.

“I’m sorry Jae,” Taeyong gasps anyways as he unties his shoelace with one hand and uses it to bind Jaehyun’s wrists behind a thin tree. He uses his other shoe lace to bind Jaehyun’s ankles, not that he should be able to run with the stick still jabbed into his thigh even if he did break out.

“T-There.” Taeyong breathes. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I’m not-- I’m not going to kill you, Jae. I can’t. But I can keep you...under control, like this.” Jaehyun is still foaming at the mouth, blood dripping down his chin as a slew of gibberish comes out of his mouth. Where the fuck is all that blood coming from?

Taeyong isn’t sure he’s truly contained, but with such an injury to the leg combined with being tied up and the exhaustion sapping the strength from his body, he shouldn’t be any harm to them, right? He doesn’t _ actually _ have to kill Jaehyun to keep the rest of them safe, right?

Right?

Slowly, Jaehyun’s heaving stops as whatever the _ fuck _ is possessing him retreats for a little bit. Taeyong sees his Jae come back to him, just a little bit as if that monster is sapping part of him every second, but it’s enough. He cups a hand under Jaehyun’s jaw, gently skimming the pad of his thumb against the soft skin.

It’s still his Jae.

“We’re going to figure out how to stop this, okay?” Taeyong begs him, “Okay? I promise. I promise we’re going to free you.”

_ Don’t make promises you can’t keep. _

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, just continues to stare at Taeyong with round, watery eyes.

“I’m going back to the group. You...we aren’t going to leave you. We’re going to figure this out and then we’ll come back and fix this. All of this.”

Jaehyun stares straight ahead, swaying slightly from side to side. Taeyong turns, about to rush back to his boys because _ fuck_, he’s left them too long, and now all this shit with Jaehyun and a fucking demon and oh _ god, _but he hears a faint scratching sound. He looks back, and is met with a half delirious looking Jaehyun scrawling patterns into the dirt behind the tree where his hands are tied. He looks up at Taeyong imploringly, then over to the dirt.

Taeyong takes a cautious step closer. In wavering, unsteady lines Jaehyun has written,

_ SH ES GO T ME _

“She’s...what?” Taeyong doesn’t know what to make of any of this. Is ‘she’ that stupid fucking oujia board demon?

A tear drips down Jaehyun’s cheek as he slowly opens his mouth. Taeyong forces his sob into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Oh, god, _ Jae.” _

Jaehyun’s mouth is _ covered _ in blood. It’s staining his teeth. His tongue looks almost bitten clean off, deep lacerations running across it and nearly meeting in the middle. More cuts slice along the sides and roof of his mouth.

“She...she did this to you?” Taeyong gasps in horror. This demon thing must be real. There’s no way...There’s no way stuff like this just _ happens _ like that.

Jaehyun, obviously, doesn’t reply. He closes his eyes and stretches his fingers back further, scribbling into the dirt once again.

_ SPO EK 2 MU CH _

“Shit…” Taeyong whimpers, wiping the blood from Jaehyun’s lips. His gaze hardens with determination. “We will solve this. I _ swear _ to you, I’ll be back.”

Jaehyun’s eyes don’t reopen as Taeyong’s footsteps grow further and further away.

_ I promise. _

“Guys!” Taeyong trips over himself as he sprints through the trees. “Guys!” He needs to make sure they’re all safe. Once he has affirmed that they’re alive and together he can debrief them on what he knows (which is near to nothing) and they can work this out. 

Somehow, they can work this out.

“G--” Taeyong stops short at the scene before him in the clearing. Kun is standing as straight as a ruler, not even one muscle moving, eyes glazed over and skin pale and greenish. He has his left arm completely extended in front of him, and he’s holding a switchblade pointed right at his heart. The rest of the boys are scattered various distances away from Kun, the closest being Doyoung with his hand mere inches away from Kun’s arm. He looks hesitant to touch Kun, as if that will bring the boy out of his supposed trance and Kun will try to hurt someone-- or himself.

As Taeyong watches, Kun’s body lurches forward, the blade clattering to the ground. He falls to his hands and knees, coughing blood onto the carpet of leaves. 

“Kun!” Taeyong screeches, rushing to his side. “What _ happened _?”

Kun still looks ill, but his skin is losing that greenish hue and his eyes are becoming clearer and clearer. “I don’t-- I don’t know!” He cries out. “I was just sitting trying to pass the time and then I felt something just-- just come over me, like a wave. I felt like I was losing control of my limbs, and then there were thoughts that weren’t mine and some sounded so scared and some were so angry and then I just...blacked out. And when I opened my eyes I had a blade pointed at myself.” Kun’s eyes are unseeing, reliving his traumatic experience.

“You were a Husk.” says Doyoung quietly. “You were a Husk, and you came back. How?”

Kun shivers, pulling his sweatshirt in closer to himself. “I don’t know. I really, really don’t know. All of a sudden the presence in my head was weaker, and then it was gone…”

Taeyong feels something weird stir at the pit of his stomach. “How long ago was this?”

Kun shrugs, but Jungwoo raises a shy hand. “He was like that for maybe twenty minutes.”

_ Right when I was chasing after and restraining Jaehyun, _ Taeyong thinks. _ That can’t mean… _

“I have something to talk about with all of you.”

Taeyong sits them all down. Kun still looks visibly shaken, staring down at his hands.

“Jaehyun...He told me about some things. I don’t know if it’s true, and I don’t know exactly what it means.” Taeyong starts, unsure of how to approach this.

“Where is he?” Renjun asks nervously, “Please don’t tell me he’s…” He bites his lip.

“No, no. He’s, um. He’s actually tied up right now.” Taeyong launches into the story of the past half an hour. He tells them about Jaehyun’s strange breakdown, his beliefs of demonic possession and contacting spirits, everything he knows.

“That can’t be real.” Jeno says. “A demon controlling him? No way.”

Taeyong hands his head in his hands. “That’s what I thought, but you should’ve seen him. I could see something change in his eyes...it was terrifying.”

“Can we see him?”

Taeyong sits straight up. “Absolutely not, Donghyuck. He could be dangerous.” It hurts him to say those words, but it’s true. He doesn’t understand Jaehyun right now, and much as he loves him, there’s no way he’ll let any of them near the sick boy right now. 

“Demonic possession…” Doyoung mulls it over. “I find it hard to believe, but I’ll trust your word and his, I guess. Do you think that could be the cause of all this?” Doyoung gestures to rapidly thinning group of boys.

“I really don’t know. That’s the only thing I can think of, that somehow Jaehyun was being possessed to k-kill...but there’s so much that just doesn’t add up. What about Johnny and Taeil? Jaehyun was right beside me the entire time before we found them. Even with Lucas, there’s no way he could’ve done that.” Taeyong picks blades of grass and rolls them between his fingertips. “There must be more here.”

Sicheng gets up and paces around the clearing. “Okay. Okay. So let’s say this demon is controlling Jaehyun. He’s obviously trying to fight it, right? I mean, he’s been in control this whole time.”

Taeyong thinks back to Jaehyun’s odd jerky movements, how it often took him minutes to muster up the effort to spit out a single word, all the times he moved as if his body was fighting against him, the moments where he would become blank, lifeless, the way his skin turned sickly green... “He’s been lucid-- mostly lucid.” He amends.

Sicheng rubs at his eyes in frustration. “Is there any way the demon could affect things outside Jaehyun? Like, could it have possessed Mark to...do what he did?”

“Mark didn’t commit suicide.” Donghyuck speaks up defensively, fire sparking in his eyes. His hands are curled into tight fists.

Taeyong runs a hand down Donghyuck’s back. “It’s possible, I guess. It seemed like the attachment was to Jaehyun, and he was doing everything he could to suppress it. Otherwise, wouldn’t we all have been murdered by now?” He chews his lip. “And he...he asked me to kill him.”

The group sucks in a gasp at that.

“If the demon could just possess any of us at any time or hop from person to person, I don’t think he would’ve come up with that as a solution.” Taeyong continues. He feels numb, detached from the words spilling out of his mouth.

“Jaehyun is a vessel for it, then.” mumbles Yuta. “It’s attached to him. It’s getting him to do its bidding, but it must be doing it indirectly...somehow.”

“How the fuck could any of this be possible?” Taeyong groans. “Okay, we need a break. Clear your minds, everyone, hopefully we’ll come across something.”

The dreamies huddle together, a sight that’s becoming more and more normal. Doyoung sits by himself under a twisting tree, estranged from the group as he thinks in solitude. Jungwoo, Yuta, Kun, and Sicheng curl into each other, murmuring quietly to each other. Each sound in the small area goes mute to Taeyong as he watches Donghyuck turn his phone on and off, on and off. He’s staring at the lock screen, a happy family picture of all seven dreamies. The LED screen lights up his face, hauntingly beautiful. The dim glow jars something deep in Taeyong’s memory.

Taeyong suddenly remembers the strange texts he received in those first few hours of panic. His phone is on very low battery, but he pulls it out anyways. The first string of text…

_ P̵̡̡̩̗̝̺̯̝̹̼̙͔̻̽̾͆̊̈͊ͅL̵̡̩̈́̈́̿̄́̌̚͜͝͝E̷͍͉̥̟̭̯͓̳̎͂̾͒̌́̒̄͂́̽͝͝Ả̸͈͓̰̳͍̞̱̄̓͐͗̐Ş̴͉̻̈́̉̾ ̶̗̿͌̈́͊͛͌͛̃̅̚͠Ę̷̜̞̩̰̥̉̔͋͐̅̃ ̵̢̰̠̱̹̹͔͎̖̘͙͕͌͋͜͠Ḥ̶̨̞̭͔̞͚͖̰̘̄̇̃̾̂̊̎̕̕Ĕ̷̡̡̝̝̬̭͎̠̬̪̺̯̹͖̚̕̕L̶̛͈̥̈́͊͐̽̿̾̑̓̌̈́̕͠P̸̩̙̠̠͙̩̱̽̄̑͋̏͜͝ ̵̧̧̺͖̣̭͎̭̿M̶̨̖̼̱̥̰͕̻͙̮̗͝E̵̢̢̗̳̟͕͙̻͉͕̣̿̄͛̇̒̎̈́̓ ̷̮̳̏͝ͅP̴̗̜̠̰̜͕̘̃̐̇͗̈́̆̅͌͠L̴̰͚̝͎͍͖͚̐̐̓̌͘̕͠Ȩ̸̰̩̠̜͍̹͈̖͆̒̉̓̄̾̅́̐͒̔͘͠ͅA̸̡̛̛͖̦͖̜̬͍͎͓͓̰̅̏̈́͆̐̇̍̍̿͊͘͘S̸̨̨̢̛̮̥̥̘̙̩̟̞͎̥͕̿͐͛͂̓͆̒̿̽̚Ę̶̭̟͕̰̤͉̘̩͚̤͂̀͜͝ _

_ ̸̢̟͇̌̿͐̓̃̍̇͌͘ͅ ̵̢̢̛̞͕̥̰͌̄͌̆̅̀͐̉̓̕͠ͅI̷̛̹͈̥̗͍͔̥͖͛̌͆͛̈́͝ ̵̺͍̙̫̓̉̀̏͊̍̐͐̑̚̕͜ͅC̷̢̻̙̮͓̭̭͂͌̾́A̴̙̪̯̓̚ ̴͍̪̪̦̩͛͆͂̓̄̍̈͜N̸̢̜̜̟̏̆̃T̵̛̗̪̖̯̞̰̔̏͗̃̑͗̑̀͂͝͠ ̸̣̼͈͇̻̺̌̈̈̈́̆́̓̌̏̈̎C̵̢̩̺̤͆͆̇̊̏̀͊͊͐͐̉̈́͂Ǫ̴͍̤̲̼̟̰͚̗͒ͅŅ̴̗͓͉͈͚͙̈̄ͅT̸̞̘͔̩̜͖͎̃̂̂̑͘ͅO̸̡͎͍̠̼̟͈̺̠̰̫̐̓͗̿͘̕R̶̹̼̦͍̪̜͍̻̰̟̪͍̬͙͌͛̍̄͑̓̎̈́̎̄̆̏Ļ̶̡̡̤̳̳̞̠̳̼̣͚̏ͅ ̵̼̗͕̮̓͋Ĭ̴̢̦͇͖̤̤͇͖̞̌̈̊̾̏̈́͋̃̒̍̈͘͝T̵̪̼̠̜̫̪͔͍̙̦̘̥̙͌̍̽̄̊̓̾̊̈̋͛͝ ̴̧͔̮͍̲̞̜̗̝̺̝̜̪͋̋̇̀́̇ͅP̵̨͚̳̤͈̎͑͊̑̅̽̊͑͗̓͝ͅ _

_ ̴͕̟̦̜̭̝̇͒̃͆̋̓͜͝L̸̨̝͖̜̣̩̭̿̆͛Ë̷̢̜̠̥͙͓̙̘̰̜̟͖̣̠́̀̒͌A̶̡̰͈̟͖̔̍̓͂̉̄̂͊̇̽͝Ş̶̜̲͉̑̕M̵̬̗̒͑͂̋͐͌̅̒̒͛̏̆̕͘ ̵̨̼̜̫̼͕̻̣͖̬̮̝͇̿̿̂̓̃͌̃̍̓̒̎̈̓̈́J̶̜͍̲̺͘ͅĘ̴̔͛̓̂̋́̌̽͘̚͝ͅP̸̧̹̙̜͙̝̹̤͎̙͔͖̤̤̽̍̍͗̏̔̚Ä̶̗̞̲̘̪̗̼͕͆̀̿̅̎͐̈́͜L̴̡̤̪͋̃͂͊͆̈͌̚͝͝͝͝͠S̷̗͎̮̩̙̩̺̦̦̺ ̵̨̨̭͕̟͓͍̼̫̺͍̥̻͈̀͐͋̔́̓̂̌̿̂̓͝͝Ě̴̥̱̞͂̊̚[̷̺̤̳̥̖͎̺͓͈̓͐̋͑̈́̊̏͂̕͜͜;̶̢̧͚̺̥̺̳̗̝͙̌́̑̇͂͑̑̕͝E̷̘͓̖͗̈̄̈̏̋̓Ļ̷̧̡̢̛͚͖͙̻͓͚̲͎̩͔͗͌̈́̓̂͠Ä̵̡͈͕͍͉͕̹́̈́͜Ş̶̪͕̞͕̩̥͙̯̗̣̻̌̍͂̌̾͆̃͠ͅE̴͔͆̉̇̾̎̾̿͂͛̀͘͝ ̷̨̛̲̳̪̺̟̖̠̲̫͇̘̲ _

_ ̶̫̹̆̈́̈́̃̊͝P̴̪̙͙̗̗͙͖͈͑̿̈́͘̚L̵̲̤̇̈́̒͛̉̃̐̊̕̕͝͝Ȩ̴̰̻̹͈͕͉͔̦͖̠̲̉͗̉͂̎̅̐͗͋̈́͒̽͝Ą̵̲͔̜͔̝̜̐̇͘͜S̶̬̘̰̻̯̙̘̒́͆̂͌̐͒̈́̚͝Ė̴̮͉͛͒̑̈͌̎̃͊̊̂̓̚ ̵͍͖͖̟̹͈͙̰͍̘̼̻̰̀̄̈̓͗̐̈̈́͂͆͊̽̚̕Ȟ̷̨̬̠̼͖̓͂͂͋̓̊̑͒̂̄́͠L̴̛̟͋͛͆̈̕P̴̭͓̙̟̬̟̰̘̓̽̐̒̄͌̋͂̃̕̚͘͠Ẹ̸̾͒̌̋̇̎̊̈̉̈́̍̕ ̴͓͉͉͔̈̈́̆̂͒̇̓̕͝Ḩ̵̝̬̺̩̙͓̣̓̔͗̃̾̒̀̄͝Ê̸̡̘̪̞͍̳̭̗̖̮̼͋̊̑̿̽̆͜͝͠L̸̘͈͇͕̬̞͚̾͆͌͛̌̅̈́̚͠ ̷̨̨̨͕͍̩͎͚͖̅̔̌͆͌͊̊P̴̨͕̙͈̰̳̹̲̬̞̯͓̼̀̋̉͌͠ _

“This must be a clue.” Taeyong whispers to himself. He would pull up an application to see if he could translate it or somehow clear the gunk away from the message, but he has no service. He squints closer at it. He doesn’t want to run out of battery, but he dials the brightness all the way up and enlarges the text on his screen.

“Is that saying…’please help’?” Taeyong can barely make out any words, the cluttering of symbols around the words glitching and swimming in front of his eyes. “This must be connected to Jaehyun!” 

Taeyong waves over the other boys, and they crowd around the tiny screen. “I got these texts a while ago. I didn’t think anything of them at the time, but...” He explains sheepishly. “This must be connected to Jaehyun, right?”

“How long ago?’ Doyoung asks, his face growing sour. “You didn’t think to tell anyone? This could be huge!”

“It was right after we found Lucas. Everyone was unstable as it was, I couldn’t go blabbering about my phone getting a weird text from a wrong number!” Taeyong weakly defends himself.

“If it was right after we found Lucas, and if Jaehyun was somehow responsible for Lucas’s death...could that be a cry for help from Jaehyun? He was out of his mind and he couldn’t control it?” Jaemin muses. Renjun goes pale at the mention of Lucas.

_ He helps unbuckle Jaehyun from the seat and pulls him out. _

_ “That was so fun!” _

_ Jaehyun looks a bit sick. “I think I blacked out.” _

“But why are the messages all distorted and unreadable? That’s so weird; that would never happen on a normal phone.” Kun says.

“It could be a virus?” Jaemin offers weakly, running a stressed hand through his knotted hair. Taeyong taps his fingers against his lip in thought.

_ “Huh, did you get a new phone?” _

_ “Yup, got it last night.” _

“His phone.” Taeyong sits up ramrod straight. “I don’t know what happened to his old one, but he had a new one earlier. Or, a new software? It seemed really odd, and he hardly ever updates his phone so I didn’t question it, but he’s been acting weird with it.”

“Weird how?”

Images flash across Taeyong’s mind, his thoughts whirling as pieces fall into place.

_ He sits up in the dirt as a bright flash envelopes his vision, what sounds like a camera shutter going off behind him. When the spots in his eyes clear, the man is gone. Jaehyun is standing where Taeyong was, phone held parallel to the ground. He’s shaking. _

“He never let me see what was on it. Even when we had no service he was messing around on it, and he…”

_ “At this point, I’m not worried about finding them. I’m worried about what we’ll find.” Ten starts, but is cut off with a bright flash of light. “Ow, Jaehyun, what the fuck!” _

_ Jaehyun lowers his phone, which still has the camera application opened. “Sorry…” _

_ “This is not the time to be taking goddamn contact photos, Jae.” _

“He was always taking pictures-- pictures of us.”

“What are you saying, Taeyong?” Doyoung levels him with a hard stare. “What does any of that have to do with this?”

“His on and off obsession with getting photos of us, his weird phone system, his secrecy...what if there’s something about his phone that gives him-- the demon-- _ whatever-- _ control over us? The demon uses him to operate it and influence us?”

“Husks.” says Renjun emptily.

“Huh?”

“Husks. He uses images of us to control us and turn us into Husks, does that sound right?”

“But it’s not him! It’s-- it’s whatever is in his head.” Taeyong protests. Jaehyun isn’t a murderer-- he just isn’t. “He told us about Husks, didn’t he...fuck. Maybe he doesn’t even know what’s going on or how to stop it.” 

Was the Husk thing a red herring set by the demon speaking through Jaehyun? But it’s obviously a real thing; Kun was one just before Jaehyun was incapacitated. Was it all a silent plea from Jaehyun to put things together? Does Jaehyun even know what he’s doing?

Taeyong’s head pounds. He can’t tell up from down, right from left, truth from lies.

“We need to find his phone.” Yuta declares. 

“And then?” Donghyuck challenges hotly. “We’re going to, what? Throw it in a landfill? How do you even get rid of cursed objects? If that’s what we’re even dealing with.”

“We’ll get to that when we find it.” Taeyong concedes, starting to scour the small campsite. After a few minutes of combing the clearing, it’s obvious that the phone isn’t with any of their stuff.

“It must be with Jaehyun.” says Doyoung, looking out into the trees. Taeyong’s mouth twists in unease. He really doesn’t want the rest of them near Jaehyun right now, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting any of them out of his sight.

Not again.

_ Please, no more. I can’t bear any more of this. _

“Okay. You all have to stay at least five feet behind me at all times, and _ don’t _ approach him. I don’t-- he’s still Jae, but I don’t know what he’ll do. Be careful, and if you can...” Images play in his mind-- Jaehyun’s sliced up face, the blood dribbling from his mouth, the inhuman screams-- “...don’t look at him.” 

The rest of the boys nod solemnly and file out after Taeyong. They crunch their way through the woods, all the way back to where Taeyong left Jaehyun tied up. The boy is still slumped against the tree trunk, head hanging low. His head lolls to the side slightly as he hears the others approach.

He’s lost a lot of blood. Weakened and unable to speak, he flinches and twitches, eyebrows furrowed as Taeyong crouches near him. Clearly Jaehyun doesn’t want them near him-- he must be afraid of himself. Taeyong’s heart squeezes as Jaehyun opens his bleary eyes. They’re dull and lifeless, hopeless.

With careful, nimble fingers Taeyong reaches into Jaehyun’s back pocket and draws out his phone. The boy’s muscles tense like he-- or something in him-- wants to snatch it back, but he’s too restrained and weak to pose any sort of real threat. “It’s okay, Jae,” Taeyong tries to placate the boy, moves slow and voice soothing as he retreats with the phone, “It’s okay.”

Jaehyun’s aimless eyes eventually land on one person. Kun is standing on the very edgy of the clearing, his nails anxiously digging into the bark of the tree he’s half hidden behind. Something like recognition sparks in Jaehyun’s eyes, which quickly dissolves into pain and horror. His back arches impossibly, forehead hitting the wood behind him again and again as he wails and wails and wails. 

“'_MSORROYOMYMSORRYIMORRY! _” he moans but his tongue flops uselessly in his mouth, unable to enunciate the words. Blood coats his entire chin, encroaching on his neck.

Doyoung turns the dreamies around and ushers them further away, while Kun looks like he’s going to be sick and Jungwoo _ is _sick. Taeyong’s hands flutter nervously a foot or two away from Jaehyun’s head, unsure of whether intervening would help or just get him (or both of them) killed faster. After a few seconds, he darts forward and intercepts Jaehyun’s head from slamming against the tree trunk, gently lowering his chin back towards his chest. He hushes the boy quietly, whispering sweet nothings to him. He steps backwards apprehensively, waiting for another outburst, but it doesn’t come. Eyes teary, he checks to make sure Jaehyun is still breathing and then tries to shake it off, a white knuckled grip around the cursed phone.

“What was that?” Yuta asks with wide eyes. “He just...snapped?”

_ Kun is standing as straight as a ruler, not even one muscle moving, eyes glazed over and skin pale and greenish. He has his left arm completely extended in front of him, and he’s holding a switchblade pointed right at his heart. _

“He saw Kun...he must’ve known about earlier, when he almost-- when Kun almost--” Taeyong cuts himself off because there’s no need to ruminate on it further. Everyone knows what he’s referring to. Jaehyun has some idea of what had happened, but didn’t know that Kun was alive, was that it? Either way, Kun looks thoroughly shaken, hand clutching at his heart.

Sicheng winds a hand in Kun’s, squeezing it tightly. “We should move further away from...him. To talk.”

Taeyong nods and as much as it hurts him to leave Jaehyun behind again, no closer to helping him, he knows they have to do it; for their own safety.

They stop about thirty feet away from the clearing, where Doyoung has protectively thrown himself around the dreamies. Taeyong slams to his knees in emotional exhaustion, throwing the damned phone out in front of him.

It’s time.

Wordlessly, he turns it on. The screen has hairline cracks webbing across it at this point, glowing dimly. The passcode is Taeyong’s birthday because apparently even when possessed by a demon Jaehyun manages to be a huge cheeseball. 

The software is just as odd as Taeyong remembers from their ride to the amusement park-- glitchy and unfamiliar. The main home screen appears to be pretty similar to what Taeyong is used to, but none of the applications function except for the photo album and camera. The screen swipes are delayed and little black boxes keep popping up.

“It’s like he got a really bad virus from an anime porn site.” Yuta mumbles. “Not that I’d know.”

Taeyong blows a bit of air out of his nose in acknowledgement for Yuta’s joke. He’s just trying to lighten the mood, but Taeyong doesn’t have the energy to even try to act calm right now. Fingers trembling, he clicks to Jaehyun’s photo gallery.

The entire gallery before the park had been wiped. It’s nothing but photo after haunting photo of his boys-- Renjun looking uncharacteristically solemn on the walk to the first ride; Lucas messing up his hair on the bus ride; Taeil and Johnny seemingly arguing over something; Ten looking annoyed in the middle of the forest, his hand up to deflect the flash of the camera; and most recently, Kun standing in one of their campsites.

Cold fingers skate down Taeyong’s spine at the sight of Ten. That photo couldn’t have been taken more than an hour before his death. The boy looks completely healthy, skin normal and eyes bright-- too bright.

“They all...something looks wrong. Look at their eyes!” Kun skims a finger over Lucas’s face. Camera flash often gives people red eyes in photos, but this is extreme. Each photo is corrupted on all edges. Multicolored lines glitch through them, enlarging and shrinking body parts at random. The only thing that remains consistent is the glowing red eyes. Each member is staring directly into the camera, looking almost….hypnotized. 

“Husks.” Renjun says quietly. “This must be what makes them. Whatever _ thing _ that’s taken over Jaehyun and his phone manipulates us through photos!”

“Oh my god!” Taeyong breathes as he swipes to the next picture. There’s a photo from the corn maze of the crazy chainsaw man. He looks to be in the same state as the rest of the subjects of the photos-- body stiff and rigid, eyes red and eerily unseeing. “Jaehyun controlled the chainsaw man to leave us alone?”

“Yeah, or he manipulated him to attack us and then got lucky enough to get control back to save _ you_.” Doyoung scoffs. “We can’t go trusting him.”

Taeyong feels dizzy at the realization that he’s the only member who Jaehyun doesn’t have a photo of. He even deleted Taeyong’s photo from when they were on the bus.

“We have to destroy the phone.” Jeno rasps, glasses knocked askew. “We have all the pieces, right? We destroy the phone, the demon can’t control us anymore and we’re good.”

“That’s so dangerous, we don’t know how to dispose of this thing! What if destroying it releases the demon?” Donghyuck argues tearfully but there’s no anger behind the words, only a fear of losing more of those he loves. He buries his forehead into Jeno’s neck. “We can’t just go rushing into this!”

“Think about it. We’re in the perfect position.” Jaemin looks nervously around at his members. “Kun was...released because Jaehyun-- or whatever is in him-- became too weak to keep control over him, yeah? Right now Jaehyun is restrained, we have the phone, and the demon can’t have any power over us. We destroy this phone and it’s weird virus or whatever, we wipe all the photos, we should be free! Jaehyun should be free!”

Jungwoo fiddles with his hands. “We don’t know that…” He keeps switching back to Lucas’s photo. Taeyong’s heart splinters for him.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Jaemin begs, tears dribbling down his chin as he protectively hugs Renjun closer to his waist. “Please, we need to end this. Now!”

  


_ DESTROY THE PHONE? _

_[ → Chapter 27](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744871) _

_ DON’T DESTROY THE PHONE? _

_ [→ Chapter 39](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745153) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	46. forty-six.

_ CONFRONT JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

Taeyong holds the phone up to eye level, raising one eyebrow at Jaehyun. “Jae? How come you didn’t tell me your phone didn’t die?”

Jaehyun makes a face, reaching out to grab the phone out of Taeyong’s hands. Taeyong lets him. “It didn’t seem worth it at the time, what with all the chaos going on. It’s all glitchy anyways, it’s nearly unusable. Only the camera works.”

Something doesn’t feel right. Taeyong can feel his heartbeat rising in stress. “Why wouldn’t you _ tell _ us, though?! We could call the police with this, or navigate our way out of here!”

Jaehyun looks hurt, shoving the phone back in Taeyong’s face. “Yeah, and with what cell service?”

“Huh?” Taeyong’s eyes focus on the screen right in front of his face. Jaehyun is right. The phone beeps sadly when he presses on the menu for cell connection. “Oh.”

Jaehyun moves to pocket the phone, but Taeyong grabs his wrist, feeling a little desperate. “But there’s more! What about the weird ph--”

“Listen to yourself, Taeyong!” Jaehyun cuts him off, sounding angry now. “You think now is a good time to push this shit?! We have two missing members that we could be searching for, two brothers that may need our help, and you’re standing here interrogating me on something that doesn’t even matter!”

“Whoa, Jae. Calm down, I-I’m sorry.” Taeyong tries to placate the riled up boy, his eyes wide. Jaehyun’s skin is pale and he looks a little ill, lips dry and cracking with blood from biting at them. There’s a conflict behind his eyes that Taeyong just can’t recognize, and he doesn’t try to challenge it. Jaehyun deflates as Taeyong drops the subject, thumb rubbing slow circles into Taeyong’s wrist.

“Sorry, babe, I just…” Jaehyun licks his lips uncomfortably. “There’s just so much going on. There’s so much we don’t know.”

_ I know_, Taeyong thinks as he watches the device disappear into Jaehyun’s pocket.

Jaehyun’s team had stopped up ahead once Jaehyun ran back to Taeyong, so they move swiftly to rejoin them. The boys are milling about anxiously, trying to keep their minds busy. Too much quiet thinking leads to some pretty nasty places.

“Sicheng’s team is starting with the bathrooms and working on that side of the park. I say we start with Zero Gravity and move this way.” Jaehyun says, finger trailing along the map. 

Ten nods. “Before we go any further, when was the last time anyone saw them? I thought we should check out some of the nearby food stands because they probably would have wanted to try those out, but if they were there when we...found Lucas...then that’s probably not it.”

Taeyong taps his chin. When _ was _the last time he saw Johnny and Taeil? He can’t remember them in the pandemonium of finding Lucas. He can’t remember them back when Jisung was scaling the gate, or even when they were leaving the meeting area to try to escape. What the fuck! When did they get separated?

How did Taeyong go this long without knowing?

Taeyong groans, feeling guilt weigh onto his chest. “I can’t remember...” The rest of the group shrugs their assent. No one remembers seeing Taeil and Johnny past the initial murder of the woman-- whoever committed it.

Jaehyun folds up the map decisively. “In that case, we’re just going to have to start searching. Leave no stone unturned, no piece of junky theme park equipment untouched, whatever. No shortcuts.”

“Aye, aye.” Ten salutes, and the group starts to move on their way. They start checking by Zero Gravity, a large wheel-like contraption that spins, gradually inching its way up until it’s vertical. There’s no one there-- no one on the ride, no employees in the booth, and certainly no Johnny and Taeil.

They aren’t at the next ride, either. Or the next, or the next, or the next. They aren’t at the cheesy little spooky outdoor eateries, or any of the cheap carnival games. 

Donghyuck absentmindedly throws a dart at one of the balloons in one of the game booths. It pops satisfyingly. He gives a wry grin. “I win.” He says without a trace of triumph in his voice, and cuts down one of the cute small animal plushies. He gives it to Renjun. The poor boy has had silent tears rolling down his cheeks ever since they found Lucas.

“I don’t get it!” Mark exclaims in frustration, slamming his hand down onto the booth’s counter. He tries to play it off, but Taeyong sees the wince of pain flash in his eyes. “We’ve looked everywhere!”

“Not everywhere!” Sicheng huffs out, jogging up to them. He braces his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Not-- not everywhere.”

“What do you mean, did you find them?!” Taeyong peers around Sicheng, hoping to see Johnny and Taeil in tow, safe and unharmed. Sicheng is alone.

Wheezing, Sicheng shakes his head. Taeyong’s heart plummets. Face flushed red, Sicheng pants, “Not exactly. Well, I mean…” He bites his lip. “We found Johnny.”

That doesn’t sound promising. Taeyong nods at him to lead them back to the others. Halfway there, he grabs Sicheng’s sleeve and quickens his pace, distancing them from the rest of the group for a few minutes.

“What did you find?” He’s almost too afraid to ask, but he knows he shouldn’t head into this blind.

Sicheng grimaces. “You’ll see.” His eyes look haunted.

And goddamn if that isn’t the most unsettling thing. Sicheng is quite the soft spoken guy, always getting doted on and babied by the rest of the members, but he’s actually rather tough. He doesn’t flinch at horror movies, isn’t phased by jumpscares, and is usually the one to catch bugs around the dorm. For him to look so shaken?

This doesn’t bode well.

Sicheng leads them to the mouth of a Small World-esque ride where the rest of the group is clustered. Sicheng’s group looks like a damn mess. Doyoung is trying to comfort Jeno and Jaemin, who are sobbing. Kun looks terrified, stricken by whatever they had seen. Taeyong shoulders his way into the thick of things, demanding to know what happened.

Yuta points a crooked finger towards the entrance to the ride. “G-Go see for yourself.” He says thickly. Taeyong’s eyes narrow, sizing up the situation. He unhooks the rope barring off the entrance to the ride, ducking underneath the metal rods that make up the line to get inside. He straightens up, hearing footsteps trail behind him.

“I’ll go alone.” He says, throwing an arm in front of Mark. The boy gives him a sour look, but a yank from Jaehyun sets him back in his place. Taeyong shoots a grateful look to Jaehyun, feeling their conflict from earlier smooth over. Jaehyun gives him a small smile. _ Be careful, _ he mouths.

Taeyong sets his sights back on the ride in front of him. There’s an outside line section that feeds into an indoor area where the ride actually takes place. It’s quite a large building, and it’s completely deserted. As he walks the line towards the first boat, Taeyong’s fingertips trail along the grooves in the wooden walls where teenagers have been carving their names for years. He shivers.

The ride is one of those slow moving boat rides that takes you through a bunch of themed rooms filled with dolls. The theme of this version seems to be a through the eras type ride, as the waiting area is decorated like the stone ages. The boats are obviously not operational at the moment, floating sadly in their docks.

“I don’t understand…” Taeyong mumbles, edging closer to the first boat. He ducks his head into it. No one. “Where is he supposed to be?”

It isn’t until Taeyong starts towards the third boat that he sees it. There’s a hand clinging onto the far edge of the boat, fingernails torn and bloody. Taeyong presses a horrified hand to his mouth, muffling his shriek. “_Johnny?!” _

Tripping on his own legs in his panic, Taeyong scrambles towards the boat, but when he looks in, nothing is there but the inch or so of filthy theme park water collected underneath the seats. “What…”

The hand is coming from outside the boat, wrist twisted and broken.

On trembling legs Taeyong boards the boat. It rocks unsteadily with each movement, threatening to pitch him off, but he has to see, has to _ know. _ Gulping, he slowly leans past the rim of the boat, squinting into the murky water below.

“Oh, god!”

Johnny is lying face down in the scummy water, his hair fanning out around his head and his limbs drifting aimlessly. He’s anchored to the boat by that one gnarled hand, the fingernails digging into the rotting wood. Taeyong gasps out a sob. It echoes in the large room as he struggles to keep his breathing under control.

_ If you panic, everyone panics. _ He reminds himself sharply. _ Don’t panic. Don’t fucking panic! _

“Johnny.” He rasps, pressing two fingers to the body’s side and gently turning him onto his back. “Oh my god…” He cries, tears dripping into the water. Johnny’s face is swollen and bruised purple, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. The water around him gets redder as the body is disturbed, and Taeyong notices for the first time the large gash on his front, the blood dribbling from his blue lips. 

It can’t have been that long. Taeyong desperately feels around his neck for a pulse. Johnny couldn’t have been dead for that long.

_ If only I was faster. _

The weight on his chest grows that much heavier as Taeyong stands up and staggers out of the boat, flinging himself onto the loading area with a thump. He sobs into his hand. Johnny, his right hand man. Johnny, the strong fatherly presence, the one they always went to for comfort, when they needed a voice of reason. Johnny, the one Taeyong went to when he felt the crushing pressure of his life taking a toll on him.

Johnny is gone, and it’s all Taeyong’s fault.

“T-There’s still Taeil. We can still save him!” Taeyong mutters to himself hysterically. He can feel his grip on rational thought slipping away the more and more tragedy strikes them, but he must stay calm. They’ve lost two members, yes, but he has a duty to protect the remaining fifteen-- maybe fourteen. “Johnny and Taeil couldn’t have been far apart. Maybe i-it’s not too late for Taeilie.” His own words are barely processing in Taeyong’s ears as he stares into the blackness of the first room.

It can’t hurt to check.

He throws a glance towards the operating system, the buttons and levers hidden behind glass. It looks fully functional, and a light is blinking on the dashboard. It probably isn’t a good idea to mess with the ride without any prior knowledge of how to actually operate it, though, so it looks like he’ll be making this journey on foot. He shudders as he plunges both feet into the rust-tinged waters, sloshing up to his knees. He’s just glad he didn’t let anyone else tag along. They’re traumatized enough as it is.

The pitch black tunnel plays evil tricks on his eyes as he drags his feet towards the first room. It’s damp and disgusting in there, the nasty water condensing on the walls, making them slick. When the tunnel widens at the end, spitting him into the first dimly lit room, Taeyong discovers that it isn’t water that the damned passageway was slippery with.

Frantically wiping his fingers on his soiled pants, Taeyong pushes through. The first room is pretty similar to the outside area, just more decorated with dolls and props. He eyes a small black box sitting off to the side, disguised as a rock. They probably sing, too. That’s horrifying on its own.

He sludges through the first room with no luck. The next few rooms are rather small and scarce, only a few decorations dotted throughout, and also yield no results. It isn’t until Taeyong reaches a Roman Empire war themed room (which is gruesome and rather odd to include in a kids educational ride) that he finds Taeil, skewered by an angry Roman animatronic’s sword.

Taeyong nearly drowns himself in the knee high water in his effort to get to Taeil’s side as fast as possible. Fingers fluttering around the sword, he eventually decides not to disrupt the body. Taeil’s eyes are blown wide in shock in horror, but he isn’t forever staring down at the slab of metal separating his stomach from his intestines.

No. Instead, Moon Taeil is immortalized with his head swung to the side, screaming over his shoulder to some masked murderer Taeyong can’t see.

“Taeil…” Tears pour down Taeyong’s face again, barely having stopped after finding Johnny’s body. “Taeil! _ Wake up!” _ But no matter how much he begs, how long he spends crouched next to the body, Taeil is gone. He isn’t coming back.

Taeil, his mentor. The only one he could truly relax around. Taeil could handle himself. As the oldest, the only other one with responsibilities over the rest of the group, Taeil was someone Taeyong felt safe around.

“You’re safe, now.” Taeyong chokes on his cries, leaning up to swipe Taeil’s eyes closed. At least he looks at little more at peace now. “You don’t have to b-be afraid anymore. You’re okay.”

_ You’re okay. _ Taeyong dissolves into ugly, heaving sobs. _ Please look over us now, all three of you. We need your help. _

“Taeyong?!” Jaehyun’s voice drifts into the room, the sound of sloshing footsteps growing louder. Jaehyun catches up to him in no time, eyes flickering around the scene. “Are you okay? I heard crying-- Oh.” His knees hit the water. “Oh, _ Taeil_.”

Taeyong throws his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, nosing into his chest, searching for any trace of comfort he can get. Jaehyun’s arms tighten around him, running long fingers through his hair and holding him as he cries. Jaehyun tears his horrified gaze from Taeil’s body and clutches Taeyong close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he tries to calm him down.

“I failed, Jaehyun.” Taeyong whispers hoarsely, hands tangling in Jaehyun’s jacket. Hot tears splash onto Jaehyun’s neck. “I _ failed _ them.”

Jaehyun doesn’t reply.

Taeyong barely remembers leaving the chamber. The memories are foggy, dreamlike. Jaehyun carrying him out because suddenly his legs don’t remember how to work. Jaehyun depositing his catatonic body out with the rest of the group, gently breaking the news to them. Doyoung and Sicheng preventing anyone from entering the ride to see for themselves. Everyone screaming, crying, sobbing their grief to anyone that could hear them.

Taeil’s glossy eyes tracking him on the way out. Johnny’s mangled hand reaching towards him as they left.

_ You failed. _ They singsong at him as he curls into himself on the frozen grass. 

_ You can’t keep anyone safe. _Lucas gurgles, metallic blood flowing from the slit in his neck.

Doyoung makes the executive decision to move them as far from that side of the park as they can get. Taeyong is in no shape to protest, so he allows the group to move as they will. He can work out a plan in a few minutes. He just, he just has to breathe for a bit. That’s all.

He can fix this.

Jaehyun flits off every now and again to god knows where to deal with some leadership duties Taeyong’s slacking on, but in general he sticks close to Taeyong’s side, bless his heart. _ My anchor, _ Taeyong calls him fondly, clinging onto his arm. With Jaehyun, he feels strong. Capable. Powerful.

Alive.

Taeyong resolves to stop taking breaks the minute someone tells him that Jaemin has disappeared. They search, but it doesn’t take more than ten minutes for Taeyong to find the poor boy strung up between the balloons of a carnival game booth, darts pinning him to the board behind him. They line his arms, with an extra dart in each palm and one going straight through his neck. 

Taeyong sinks to his knees in front of the poor boy, speechless. “Nana…”

He can still fix this. He c-can still--

“_Nana! _ ” An unholy scream rips its way out of Renjun’s throat. He shoves through the throng of people slowly gathering around Taeyong, not caring who he’s pushing away. “_NANA!” _

Taeyong can only grimace as he too is thrown aside, the tiny ball of grief and anger an unstoppable force as he plows through. All the anger drains from his body in an instant as his eyes land on Jaemin’s corpse. His knees buckle, chest hitting the counter. His whole body would have slid to the ground if it wasn’t for Jeno holding him up. Donghyuck stands next to the two, head bowed and fists clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. The rest of the group stand back a few feet.

They all loved Jaemin, of course they did, but the 00 line had something...special. Was it love? They never really specified. Something that didn’t usually bother them, but right now...Taeyong can see the pain in their eyes.

Donghyuck and Jeno support the sobbing Renjun in between them, all linking hands and bowing in respect for Jaemin. “I’m sorry.” Donghyuck grates out, voice wavering and obviously on the verge of tears. “I love you. We-- we _ love _ you, Nana.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Donghyuck starts to pull the darts out from the wall. He doesn’t remove them from Jaemin’s body because although the boy is dead, clear as day, disturbing the wounds themselves is would just lead to more gruesome sights. Donghyuck gently pries Jaemin’s body off the wall, the boy’s head lolling onto Donghyuck’s shoulder as Donghyuck lowers him onto the ground.

Maybe they can’t give him a pretty burial, one with singing and flowers and wide smiles, just how Jaemin liked things, but the least they can do is not leave him up like a goddamn offering to the gods, an example of the cruelty inflicted upon them by some unknown coldblooded source. 

Na Jaemin was an angel visiting from heaven, and he’s been sent back too early.

Jeno isn’t normally the angry type. Truly, he’s the one of the most gentle members. In the dorms, it’s always Jeno letting the young ones win on video games just to see them smile and taunt him with their victory. He never gets angry when people take his things, share without asking, or eat his food. He isn’t even angry when they have to stay late for rehearsals, or when he can’t visit his family for the holidays. He’s mild mannered and easy going, and very, _ very _ loyal.

“What the _ fuck _ happened here?” He seethes, turning his glare on the group around him. In his heart he knows none of them are responsible for this, that they’re just as upset as he is, but goddamn he is _ hurting _ worse than any of them could imagine. The boy Donghyuck is propping up against the booth, the one Renjun is crowding with the types of soft plushies and toys he always loved, that was his partner in crime, his best friend, one of his _ boyfriends. _“Who took him away?”

Silence.

Jeno smashes his fist into the board, and then does it again. “_Who took him away?!” _He snarls, nails digging into the board. He screams-- a loud, guttural scream that goes straight to the hearts of everyone in earshot. Taeyong feels guilt swirl in his stomach. He’s messed up so bad. He’s messed up so, so bad and none of them will ever be able to recover from this.

“Stop!” Renjun pleads, throwing himself onto Jeno. The younger boy is literally trembling with rage, but the fight leaves him once Renjun touches his skin. “Please, please stop.” Renjun mumbles into the warm skin of his neck. “Nana wouldn’t have wanted us to cry.”

If it was anyone else, Jeno would have snapped at them with a _ How would you know what Nana would’ve wanted? _ But this is Renjun. This is _ Renjun_. 

They always listen to Renjun.

With Renjun’s soft touches and Donghyuck’s sweet voice, they manage to calm Jeno down long enough to give a farewell to Jaemin. When they leave the booth behind, none of them dare to touch the three of them. The only ones that don’t seem afraid of setting off another explosion is Jisung, Chenle, and Mark. The remaining members of 00 line avoid eye contact with everyone except for the rest of the dreamies. They don’t speak to anyone, save for Donghyuck murmuring lowly to Mark. Jisung and Chenle are rightfully traumatized, but they do a remarkably good job at distracting the rest of them. Taeyong leaves them be, not wanting to intrude on their precariously balanced dynamic.

Besides, he has things to take charge of. No more resting, no more breaks, no more becoming weak when his babies need him. He slacked off, and for that Jaemin suffered horribly. 

No more. 

He can’t-- he _ won’t _ let anyone else die on his watch.

“From now on, no one goes anywhere without a buddy. I don’t want to hear it, Yuta.” Taeyong raises his hand to silence whatever protest was probably about to come out of Yuta’s mouth. “I don’t care if this seems extreme or excessive or whatever, because this is an extreme situation. No one goes anywhere alone, no one goes anywhere without alerting the rest of the group, and you will report anything odd or suspicious to me or Jaehyun immediately. Okay?”

One by one, the members nod.

Taeyong bites his lip. Right. Now, a plan. “There’s a lodge a small ways from here that we’re going to take shelter in for the night. In the morning, we’ll try to get into some employee restricted areas and find some power tools that should help us cut open the front gates. Either that or they’ll set off emergency alarms and we can get help sent to us. Whatever works. Until then, don’t move unless you’re told to.”

Taeyong scrutinizes the map before leading them off somewhere to the right, where the Great Bear Lodge is supposed to be. It’s an enclosed little building on the edge of the park, near a bear themed thriller coaster, and is decked out with arcade games and snack shacks and the like. It obviously won’t have beds or probably any actual food, but it seems to be the safest place to settle down for the moment, even if they don’t end up staying the night.

Taeyong shudders as they brush up near the edge of the park. He’s never seen an amusement park with such a tall and dangerous looking fence enclosing all sides of it. 

They make it into the lodge, and as predicted, it is utterly deserted. There’s some remnants of popcorn in some of the machines, a few jars of candy left out, but there isn’t much to pillage in general. The boys take to lying down in some of the reclining seats meant for the arcade games, tired eyes, puffy and red from crying all day, slowly slipping shut.

Taeyong watches over them with his heart in his throat. His precious, precious family. His babies. The brothers he’s raised since he was old enough to understand what ‘leader’ truly meant. 

He must protect them.

Right there, standing guard at the mouth of the arcade, he makes a pact with himself. 

He doesn’t know who’s terrorizing them. In fact, he doesn’t even have a single clue, or a single lead. But he will find them, and he will kill them. He will do whatever it takes to keep his brothers safe, no matter if it means getting himself killed in the process.

For them, anything is worth it.

Something horrible stirs in Taeyong’s gut as he notices Jaehyun isn’t with the rest of them. Forcing his breathing to stay even, Taeyong puts Kun in charge and jogs towards the entrance of the building, eyes scanning every corner for his boyfriend.

He finds him outside on the steps.

Jaehyun looks visibly distressed, pacing with both hands tangled up in his hair. Taeyong overhears a bit of the monologue Jaehyun is repeating to himself. “Oh god. I-I’ve got to stop this. I’ve got to stop this, oh god oh, oh god.” Jaehyun sounds like he’s close to hysterics.

“We’ll figure this out. As a team.” Taeyong says, grabbing the back of Jaehyun’s sleeve. “Don’t put this all on yourself, please.”

Taeyong drops Jaehyun’s arm in shock as the boy turns his gaze on him. Jaehyun looks like he’s aged forty years in one night. Taeyong can’t exactly blame him-- he feels the same way, but there’s something unnatural about the look in his eyes. There’s a stress, an anguish in there that Taeyong can’t quite recognize.

“You don’t understand.” Jaehyun whispers, so low Taeyong has a queasy feeling he wasn’t meant to hear it. Jaehyun’s desperate eyes fill up with tears and he squeezes them shut, the hands fisted at his temples pulling at the hair harder and harder. Jaehyun looks about two words away from beating the shit out of his own skull.

“Hey, hey!” Taeyong says tugging at the boy’s hands. “Hey, I’m the only one who’s supposed to be bald before thirty.” Jaehyun doesn’t reply, but his hands loosen a little. “That was a joke. You can laugh, it’s okay.” A little looser. His breaths are starting to even out again, too. “Or not. I guess it wasn’t funny enough for you, huh?” 

Taeyong bites his tongue before he can say, _ I’m no Taeil, after all. _

Jaehyun’s hands finally slip from their death grip, leaving the skin rubbed red and raw. “Ha, ha.” The words are blank, devoid of emotion. Taeyong can’t blame him.

“Aw, now that’s just a pity laugh.” Taeyong says, quivering hands pulling Jaehyun’s to his lips. He kisses each finger softly, the fake-playful tone dropping from his voice. “D-Don’t do that again, please.”

Jaehyun seems to have gotten himself in control, his words measured and careful as he removes his hands from Taeyong’s grip. “Don’t worry about me, Yongie. I’ll be alright. Nothing can strike us down.”

Taeyong nods with a small smile, tracing hearts into Jaehyun’s shoulder blades. After a few minutes of just mindless chatter, they all decide to start for bed. It’s really not _ that _ late, but everyone would prefer for the day to be over sooner rather than later.

Taeyong sees to it that each of them settle down. He sits cross legged on the floor before slowly laying down onto the floor, pulling his jacket up to his chin in hopes of getting a little more warmth. Sleep threatens to overtake him, but he’s forcing himself to stay light, easily awoken in case of danger. They’re all in one room, it should be easy to tell if an intruder were to break in or something, but you can never be too safe.

His thoughts begin to race. Who is after their group, and why? What have any of them done that could deserve a fate such as this? Could it be a deranged worker with their weapon? A crazed fan or unsightly person from one of their pasts? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Despite his worries, sleep’s tug on him grows more and more forceful, eventually dragging Taeyong under.

Not for long, though.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour before Taeyong is woken up by an odd clanging. It sounds like machine parts clanking together. Groggily, he kicks off his jacket-blanket and throws it around his shoulders, staggering out of the arcade room and into the hallway leading to the entrance.

The clanging is definitely coming from outside.

Taeyong picks at the skin around his fingernails, eventually deciding to investigate alone. He can handle himself. His breath fogs in the chilly night air as he steps out. Surprisingly, he’s blinding with flashing, colorful lights.

“The police…?” Taeyong whimpers, throwing a hand over his eyes. However, it’s far from the police. To Taeyong’s confusion, the lights on one of the rides across from the lodge are on.

Taeyong takes a stuttering step forward. It isn’t just the lights. The whole ride is on. How peculiar! He thought there weren’t any more employees in the park. Who could be operating that thing?

The ride is essentially a huge claw. There are a few spindles that come off the main arm, and those are lined with seats. The machine’s main arm spins, the branches rotate, and the section the seats are on also spin, so the rider gets flung with at least three degrees of motion. It’s a ride Taeyong isn’t unfamiliar with seeing, but never dared to set foot on because it just looked too unsafe.

A screech emanates from somewhere closer to the ride. Blearily, Taeyong squints closer at it. His heart picks up, sensing that something is very wrong here. The hostile sounding machine grates menacingly at him, and the branches seem to spin faster and faster.

_ “Promise?” He challenges, voice soft and light, carried away by the frigid night breeze. _

Taeyong’s blood turns to ice as he realizes that Jungwoo is hanging on for dear life at the end of one of the claw’s arms.

_ SAVE JUNGWOO? _

_ [→ Chapter 14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744652) _

_ GO INTO THE CONTROL ROOM? _

_ [→ Chapter 43](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745207) _


	47. forty-seven.

_ KILL JAEHYUN _

_ → Selected! _

  


**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)


	48. forty-eight.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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̸̧̧̢̧̨̢̧̧̡̧̢̧̢̧̢̡̧̢̡̧̡̡̧̛̛̣̯̮̩̱̯̜͕͍͍̫̺̣͇̟̜̱̗̠̦͇̗͍̼̦̳͈̗̞̗̬̫͓̣̠̥̭͈̣̜̗̠̗̩͓̤͓̳͙̞͎̩͕̭̜̦̜̙̠̤̖̪̹̻̗̩̬̯̝͙̮̲̼̙̰̯̖̜̬̙̳̻̜̞͇̞͇͚̮̞̫͖͎̙̹̬̬̘͔̱̞̠̩̙͚̬̘̝͚̬̙̯̖̟͙̞͖̘̫̜͓̫͉̩̝͓̬͓̻͚̘͚̦̳̫͔͓̮͎̭͙̬̬̳̩̩̃̊̍̇̾̂̂́̈̃̊́̑̐̏̔́̎̋̃́̈͐̆̑̽͗͛̇̈́̽͑͋́̓̈́̓̓̌̌̎̈͆͋͑̂͋̐̅̔̿̍͛̓̈́̏̔̂͂̑͑̍̾̄̄̇͛̈́͗̂͒̆̿͆̅̓̊͒͒̂̐̍̾̈́͑̔̾̍̎̃̈̓̈́̅͗̿̎̂̈́̽̍͒͆̌̈́̆̐̓́͆̀̓͑͐̉̑̕̚͘̕͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅI̶̡̢̧̢̡̨̢̢̡̢̡̧̢̧̡̛̛͇͖̱̖̯̳̰͙̟̞̳̣̻̩͇̰̗̘͈̦͚̟̲̱͈̝̮̫͙͓̩͈̹̖̥̬̠̣͖̤͍͔̞̯̞͔͈̜̱̦͕̠̙̥͙̹̘͎̼̞̪̰̬̫̭͇̝̥͈̞͉̞̬͇͍̞̝̟̲̖̰̣̗̲̤̖̜̘̗̼̣̝̙͙͔̣̯̙͓̠̥̪̫͓͕̼̱͔̥͚̼̜̮͔̥̟̗̻̯͚̪̙̗͎̦̣̣͕̦̰̊͑̃̆̊̉͑͛̑̿̈́̍͗̈́̈̄͌͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̨̧̨̨̢̨̡̡̧̡̡̡̡̡̢̨̨̧̢̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣͓͓̯͕̘̖̬̻̮̻͕̳̩̦̘̞͔̼̞̩̮̜͉̲̗͇͚̙̯̗̭̩̺͙̭̰̻̱̼̼̬̼̝̭̭̖̮̟̙̣̼̗̝̜̪̭̲̠̲̘̫͔̮̥͇̩̫̞̰̜͖̘͕̳̘̻̫̟͈͙̮̭̮̘̰͚̥̳̞̞̙͍̱̝͈̹̪̺͈͔̗̼̝̮͓̠̪̜̼͕͓̟̤͙̼͔̠̳͈̠̙̳̼͇̯̯͍̖̰̫͙̙̲̪͔͙̝̫̠̥͇̭̱̙̣̗̯͇̹̦̠̥̻͙̪͙̜͖̖̣̗͖̭̥̺̦̺͙̤̻͚̩̮̠̱̟̣̠̲̦̮͍̞̖̲̙̟̥̺̹̥͖̻̥͎͓̭̜̲̮̞̫̞̲͕̜̪̫̥̩̮̱̥̪͚̟̤͙̣̲̱̯̖͎̻͈͇͖͔͕̻̞̗̰̪̻̺͎̪̭̫̰͖̩̗̗̰͙̪̦͈͔̪̬͕͇̉̃͊̔͂̑̽̌̽̈̌̐̏͋͌̋̂̄͌̊͗̄̂̆̃̔̊͋̑͊̉̔̈́̽̅̾̇̊͆̂͐̋̾̍̔̀̑̈́̋̓̈́̽̂̇̏͛̉̋͌̽̽̔̈́͋̋͐̊͂̄͛̿̄̆̿͑̂̈́̓͑̃͒̒͌͂͐̔̊̃̌̄̏͛̓́͋̾̈́̓̇͊̿̊̌͆̑͆̊̎͊͛̓̒̽̽̓͊̊̓̄͊̃̏̾͐̒̿͊͐͂̓̈̍͂̔͊̐͒̈̉͛̌̽̈̏̿̓̅̒̌̆̇͂̑̄̄͋͂̋̿̊̒̈́̃͂̆̿̿͋̔̍̄͂͆̈́̉̓̈́͋̋̆̈́̎̊̽͌̍̀͆̈́͐͋̄̈́̃̈͗̐͂̆́̇̑͋͋͌̆͌̍̋͛̊́̆͗͗̒͗̅̑̾̀̈́͗̚͘̚͘̕͘͘͘̕͘̕̕͘͘͘̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅĻ̶̧̨̢̡̢̨̧̨̨̧̢̢̨̢̨̡̨̨̨̲͍̤̮̗̠̟͇̻̳͎̻̬͙͎̬͎̝̙̣̹̙̲̯̬̼͓͉͉̳͇̙͙̻͕͇̜̬̞̰̮̩̱̗̰͇͓̹͔̞̼̭̯̘̠̰̙̭̗͎̫̠͚̯̹̖̞̤͔̪̺̼͎̱̯̠̦̩̹͕̫͕̖̥̩̜̥̘̫̗̬̯̳̦̯̟̲̤̱̯̱͔͚͕̱̟̠͎̠̤̦̩̪̤̝͔͈̭̯̟̜͍̝̻̪͚̭͕̼̤̗̙͓͚̭̤̙̊̓̏̒̎͊̋́̉͂͌͐̈́̏̑̿͂̄̍͌͗͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅỈ̸̢̧̡̡̡̡̧̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̤̦͎̙͇̞̪̜͇̳̝̮͎̬͎̹̜̘̻̲̺͚̰͈̣̜̹͍̙̹̣͙̘͎͉̙̞̙̥̠͇̮̹̞̭̱̤͚̙͖̱͖̙̮̹̤͇͈̻̳̲̞̥̞̺̲̙͎̫͕̤̠͔̮̳̖͔̪̱͓̱̗̱̹͙̼̗͚̝̪͔͕̖̫͓̙̣͍͚̟̻͚̯̝̦͕̭͓̩̲̲̤͕̘̘͖̺͓̣͉͉̤̬͎̯̻̝̯͉̤̟̱͉̖̠̠̬͇̗̟͇̘̼̰͇̘͕̺͍͕͙͉̺̜̝͉̼͔̝̗̗̖̜̟͉̜̜͉̺͓̩̺̫͉͖̙̖͆̊̒̄̓̈́̒̉̔̊̇̇̄̈̇̏̏̿̅̄̋̅̒͗́́͛͊͆̋̐͂̐̋̅͊̽̆̈̈́̏͛̊͌̃̈͐̎̿̎͋̓̓͐̊̈́̽̓̇̐͌̇̋̌̆̿͊̆̊͆͆̓̃̈́̒͋̈́̉̎̈́̀͂͗̆̈́̄͆̾͒̿̆͊̎̀̑̓͆͗̈́̂͊̓̍̀́̃͂̈́̒͌̆͆̐́̏̿́̉̂́̎͛̌͌̐̽̉̓͊̀̇̽̓̇̃́̈́͆̈́̅̑̈́̓͐̈̇̿̓̃̍̀̔̈͛̽͗͋̍͂̀͑̏̆̈́͋͐͊̆͗̐̈͆̔̓̓͐̑̿̎̇̿̚̕̚̕̕͘͘͘̕̚̚͘͘̕͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅV̴̨̨̛̛̹̪͓̫̠͖͈͖͓̫͔̲̥̫͍͔̗̬̘̯͉̰̼͉͚͔̖̤̹̪̬̝͇͒̈͐̃̃̍͐̊̾̈̈́̇̆̊̐͊̎̀̾̋͂͊̓̐͆̐͋͒͗̓͂́̑̎̌̽͐̔̇̈̽̈́̄̈́͛̽̐̎̂̊́̈͐̃͋̐̑͂͋̀̇̇͆͑̄̄͛̃́͛͑̌̏̌̉̔͆̔͐̏͋̋͗̈͛̏͑̎̂̽̒͑̐̿̾̏̏̑͛̋̎̊̎̎̏̋͑̇̈́̅̽̎̐͑́̊͘͘͘̚͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅȨ̷̧̢̨̧̡̧̧̧̡̧̧̨̨̡̢̧̡̨̢̢̢̡̛̛̛̖̯̩̬̥͎̗̣̺̜̜͇̣̺̼̺̼̲̬̣͉͕̮̯̣̩̣͉̫͙͚̜̪̞͍͖͖̦̻̦͖̩̣̲͍͇̱̬̝̰̝̫͎͍̭̬͎͎͔͇̼̘̖̹͙̯̭͚̜̠͓̥̬͉̪̲͚̘̰̖͔̤̲̱̣͚̭͈͈͈̹̝͖͔̜͚̬̺̰̞͎͉͙̬̫͔̲̮͍̱͈̗͖͚̗̭̙̟̤̲͙̜̹̻̦̻͙̻̜̯̯͓͚̯͉̮̫̦̟͎̼̤̠͓̪̗͙͈͍̮̦̹͙̦̜̹͎̙̦̪̥͈̄̆́͂̃̇̐̑̓̾̎̔͌͆̿̈́͋̃͐̀̽̂̒̈́̏̍͗͋̀͆̆̋̅̍̃̀̿̄͊̈͛̒͐̔̇͛̍̊̑̒̽͂͛̈́̅̍̍͐̊̌̏͋́̋́̅̑͆̓͐͑̈́̾̅̊͆̑͐̍̓̊̾͋͗̂͋̉̂̾̈̒̊̿̈́̉̓̓̅̒̆̈́͌̾͌̑͒̈́͋́̈́͋͆͑̽̏͐̒̔̃̏̊̇̏̊͋͌̄̿͒̏̐̂̓̒̊̅́̉̃̒͋̑̃͊̇̈́͑̏̔̓̒͐̐̇̽͗̓͌̀̈̓̌͊͗͗́̆́͗̈́̒̂͒͒͆͐́̂̊̂͊͐͂͌̐̎̌̔̍̽̓͂̽̄̈͆͌͛̔̎͛̉̀̏̎͂͑̔̓̃̐̌̐͐̽̒̐̏́̎͛̅̇̓͌̔͊̔͘̚̚̚̚̕͘̚̕̚̕͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ 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̴̡̡̢̡̨̨̛̛̛͔̬͚͔͖͍̘̺͕͔̫̱̗͎̦̫̻̤̜̼̮̣͇̰̘̼͎̣̱͉͔͇͈͔̞͇̻͚̬̰̫͈̤̫̯̤͛̾̒͊̅̆͒͒̏́̅͌͛͂̀͊̄͆͛͗̓͑̅̾̍̉̊͑͐̿̔̈́̇͗͗̈́̾̓̅͐̽̒̿̅̇̈̈͛̇͛̒̽̒́̇͐̈̍͂̈́͊̈́̒͒̐̿̌̃̿͆͒̂̇̽̃̂͊͐̄͌̀̏̿̊̓͑͗̇̄̆͂̋͊́͊͐͋̉̇͆̓̇̊͌̔̉̉̐̃͋͂̑͒͗͌̚̕͘͘̚̚̕̕̚̕͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅG̵̢̡̡̩͚̜͔̥͇̙̻̰͈͈̬̘͍̙̬͍͍͓͚̱̥͌͌̽̍̿̾̑̋͂̿̑́̒̽̓͌̍͋̓͑͆͒̈̽͗̿̊̎̉̋̾̓̄͗̑̈̏̓̑̿̈́͂̋̋̽̂͗̑͂͑͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͠A̶̧̡̢̧̡̢̡̨̧̛̛̛̭̻̥̩̠̙͓̳͔̻͈͇̭̱̞͎͙͉̯̖̝͚͈̜̭̤͙̹̠̳̥͉̙̮̼͍͕͎̪̟̠̳̰̫͓̣̤̼̼̩͚̹͚̼̟͇̻̩̱͇͙̭̜̝̺̝̞̖̤̩͙͔̙̖̮̻̖̱̝̠͉̳̲̣̲͎̫͙͂̆̈̅̏̑̊̾̋̉̃̔̎̋͆̂̅̿̊͆͆̅̄͋̍͒̓̾͒̎͒̈́̈́̓͛͛̇̎̆̂̓͌͒̓͂̌̍̽͑̑͂̽̔̇͒̈̄̏̐̄̄̅̌̃̐̏̂̃̓̆̔͒̿͂̌̿̑̀̉̾̈̌̇̎͒̑̈́̍͊̿̐́̑̇̓̊͊̏̑̏̈́̓̐̊͗̌̌͆͊̈́̆̈́͊̇͛̿̎̂̀̐̏̏̓̿͗́͊͑̎̉͗̿̂͆͋̓́̎̀͛̎́̈́̃̐́̀͛̑̔̊̔̿̔̾̂͌̏̈́̅͌͐̅̅̑̃͆̓̓̍̉̇͊̿͌̃̊̅̓̾͐̐̈́͑̓͗̓̊̑͛͐͒̌̅̋͘̚̚̚̕̕͘̚̚̚͘͘̚̕͘͘̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅT̴̨̢̢̧̢̢̢̢̨̢̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̺͍̯̭̥̝͉̼͚͉̠̱̭͈̹̟̦̰̗̫̖̞̦̩̟̥̞̻̠̹͙̻̞͚̗͎͔̖̳̖̣̩̪̤̥͙͚͈͙̟͚͙͇̜̯̠̯͈̖̺͇̝̫̙͇̥͍͕̠̩͎͙̤̥̽̍̊̅̌̏́̒̈́̑̒͋̉͗̀̆̈́͊̇̓̍̒̐̈́̍̾̀͋́͋͑̔̓̀̋̈́̽́̒̽̓͊̎͑̎̌͛̽̆̑̊͊͊̿͋̊̎̆͌͑̑̈́͌̀̂̈̇͌͌̇̉̋̾͋͛͂͋͊̍̃͑̇̋͋́̋̈̀̈̃̎͂̃̒̐̓͂͂̍͒̑̇̉́̾̅̅̏̈́̓̐̓̉͐̋͒͛̋̃̈́̐̃̆̈́̂̓̆̒͑̓̎̊̾̌̔̈́̈̈͊̊̅̆̂͗̂̓͒̄͐̈̈́̋̊̈́̅̄̓̄̆̈́̕͘̚͘͘̕̚̚̚̚̚̚̚͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͠͠͝͝͝Ė̵̢̨̡̨̡̨̡̧̢̢̨̨̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̘̼̙̙̫͚̘̰̺̥̼̫͇̱̼̤͈͎̬̖͓̖͕͖̟̹̰̺̮͎͉͖̤̳̼̻̳̺̜̪͈̼̣͔͕̟̻̦̹͖̲͙͚̤͔̭̬̭̝͍̪̩͉͇̹̮̦͙̱̭̘̟͙̬̫̥̝̣̫͉͚̞̯̖͍͎̬͇̩͎̩̙̙̳̞̹̘̮͇͖͕̥̦̭̝̬̮̪̮̮̼̤̪̙̩̳͍̬̤͈̫̰̮̞̤̺̖̬̋̂͑̆̑̐̈́͋̍̿͑̎͗̓͂͛͆̍̇̓̇́̒͐̂̀̅̆̎̈́̍̑͐̓͊̑̃͒̈́͗̃͆̉̆̾̉̾͂̊̃͋̉̍̄̏͛͋̄̉̒̾͋̈́͛͒̏̾͗̄́͐̍̆̒̽̃̂̅̐̈͂̆͛͆̔́͌̌͋̍̈̀̓͊̎̆̾̐̓̊̽̓̉̋͗͒̃̍͒͂̈́͌̽͛̐̀͋͌͗̆͋̊̑̈̾̔͊̍̃̈̓͛̓̽̈́̌̈́͂͛͋̈́̍͋͊̑̂̿̌̑̒͆͗͒͘̚̚̚͘͘̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅS̸̡̢̨̧̧̢̨̛̛̛̻̭̞̥̺̬̫̰̩̖̹̤̣̼̹̟̩̼̰͈͚͉̣͕͍͇̪̙̯̪̘̲͕̹̥̭͖̱͖͓̜͓̮͖͈̟̬̺̩̞͖̣̰͖̬̤̟̞̘̪͍̜̳̥̹̅̌͗̎̂͑̆̒̏̈́͒̅̽̃̇̃͑͌̈́͆̋̆͛̈́͋̓̾͂̄̂͛̇̒́̉̓̽̿͗̋͂̔̈̅̃̈́̽̒̑̑͑̇͑̎̔̎͆͒͋̉͂̌̇͌͑̒͗͌̐͆̒̈̏͌͊̒́̏̇̔̓̕̚͘̚͘͘̚͘͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̨̨̨̨̡̢̡̢̧̛̛̛̛̛͇͓̤̘̭̗͙̮̪̝̗̬̻̬͉͕͈͕̲̖̹̳̜̩͉͚͚͎͉̙̪̹͖̲͉͍̙͉̳͈̖̜͇̖̮̞̠͈̙͍̼͉͍̥̭̞̟͙̭͓͎̱̰͈̟̭̼͖̪̘͎̺̪͉̥͎̳̰͓̩͔̫̳͈͓̣̜̲͈̥̺̦͈̩̟̪͖̩̺̰͇̲̦͖͇̗͇̼͉̝͍̫̣̪̤͕̞̹̰͓̪͔͇̙̹̱̼̟̈́͛̔̃̏͛͌͗͋̅̇̈̈́͆̿̔̂͌̎̍̆͊͛͊̏̉̐͋̌̂̐͐͒̐́͛̿̎̔̄͆͒́͐́̓̍͊͂̍̓͌̾̾͆̔̈́̾̊̇̈́̈͂̾̽̽̆͛̋̇̔̄̈̃̾̉́̃̐͑͋̏̔͋̃̔͐̋͗͗̀̇̓͐̉̉̌͑̓̅͌̆̃̈́̅̃͆́̄́̄̆̌̇͂́̽͗̂́̾̔́̒̾̃̑̔̆̉͆͆̓̾̈́̄͆̾̇̋́̇̄̃̔̊̿̃͐̈́̓̈́̔̋̂͐͋̿̓̎͛̎̈̓͑̋́̈́͊̃̋͌̉̔̅̐͊̎̈́͑̃͋͛̑̄͌̀̏̉̈́͑̑̉͗̌̆͗̏͒̈́́͌͆̐̋̄͛̊̓̓̋͒͆͂͗͋̂̑͂̎͘̕̕͘͘͘͘̚͘͘̚̕̕̕̚̚͘̕̚̚̚̕͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝Ǫ̵̨̡̡̨̧̡̨̧̨̧̧̡̢̨̡̨̛̛̛̛͔͇̮͔͇̣̘̼̪͈̥̯̠̘̞̯̰͍͈͇̙͉̟̮͓͙̰̱̩̲̮̬̰̥̥̲̳͕̠͖͇͓̲̖̘̲̠̣̠̜̺̮͓͉͍̻̺̼̮̥̯̪̱̹̪̲̤͍̻̜̺̠̻̲̮̤͎̜̖͍̜̫̝̤̙̺͚̥̞̲̝̬̠͕̝͙̻͚͖̠͚̠͍͎̝͈̳͙̫̙̮̦̦̹̝̬̫̙͓͚̬͇̲̯̦̙̪͕̞̜͍̯͕̳̩̻̘͚̲͚̗͓̦͇̙͍̫̫̹̮̱̘̪̥̖̞̎̾͌̄͛̍̐̋͐͑̆̓̎̊̋̄̉̉̂̋̐͆̉̂͛͋͛͛̑̀͋̋̓̈́̈́̌͋̋̃͗̇̓̓̿̿͐̅̽̓͆̏͗͑̈́̊̄̈́̅̊̉͑͂̏̇̉̋͐͂̅̽̀̾̽͑̄̓̍͐͑̊̈̓̂̒́͐͒̃̅̇̽̈́̌̓̓̏̒̒̐̑͑̑́̈͛̐̒̽͗͛̾̈́̅́̈́͛̽̈͂̾̃̈́̌̋̏͐̀͐̋͒̓̎̊̌̇̑̅͑̽̐͌̋̐̋̊͆͆̓̈͌̆̈́̋̂̐́̍̌̄̈́̀̄͑̃̄̿͋̚͘̚̚̕̚̚̕͘͘͘͘̕̚̚͘͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅF̵̨̨̡̡̧̡̢̢̧̡̢̛̛̳̰̼͚̜̯͉͕̘͈̖̤̗̜̰̪͖̠͔̹̭̠͙̦̳͙̫͎̜̜̠̼͔̭̺̹̪̹̗̳̥̖̥͓̜̩̜̥̭͖̱̯̞̼̱̼̩̗̟̟̳͎̙͕̗̖̟̳͎͖̤̮̳͈̟̟̘̣̺͕͈͕̞̦̩͔̞̼̖̾̊̑͂͒͆̒̂̅͗͐̽̽͌̇̍͊̓̃̎̍̐͑̅͛̇̉͌͒̀̋̆̅̈́̈̂̐̉̄̈̋͌̍̽̊̽̃̒̄͑̀̿̆̅̉̈́̓́̒͒̈́̌̾̅̓̅̑̇͗̒̈́̑͌̒̓̇̅͆͗̒̑̽̇̾͌͂̅̎̋̎̓̾̍͌͆͐̀͛͛̉̎͐̊͆̿͌̓̌̓̿̽̍̀̂̄̍͑̃̓̈͆̊̓͗̈́͊̉̆̆̇̋͐͘͘͘͘̕͘̚͜͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ 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̶̨̨̢̡̨̨̡̢̨̨̡̢̢̨̢̢̢̢̡̠͖̬̤͕̗̻̘̮̣͕̪̱̤̥̲̬̲̺̞̣̫̤̞͍̯͎̘̙̤̻̥̬̗̦̖̥̼̙̘͕̮͔͖̝̺̳̟̝̹̩̼̦̬͚̠͖̝̦͎̗͎̰̠̹̘͚̟͍̝͎͎̞̖̯͔͇̜̤̱̘̙͖͎͖̤̗͍̲̙͈͖̳̟̼͔̣̰̹̞̘̰͉͇͎̤̠̫̯̭̟͍̘̳̟̲̭͓̟̫̘̜̝͓͓̹̮̫̻͚͙̰͉̦̠̭̗̹̘͎͓̞̦̪̣̠͕̱̲̯̹̦̩͈̜̰͉̪͙̮̜̙̣̤̝̣͍͇͖̻̦͉̥̪̬͎̥̰̘̼̻̠̩̯̲͙̠̙̮̺̗̩̱͔̘͚̬̜̖͉̹̻̭̭̭͈̱̦̰͚̭̭̱̻̘͍̗̩̯̞̪̜̤̖̞̝̱͙͔͆̈́͑̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅA̶̡̧̧̨̧̢̡̡̧̡̢̨̡̧̢̢̢̢̡̡̧̨̡̨̨̨̢̛̛͚̻̬͖̼̬̞̱͍͕̖̩̪͇̖̳̝̜̣̪̪͉̳͍̠͍̱̟̹̬̼̳̫̘͚̭̼̞̲̯̥̲̫̟̗̺͎̮̤̮̦̘̣͖͉̪̩͚̣̙̥͉̮̣̫̲͈̻̜͕̦̦̣̲͙̟͈͚͕̥̠̖̺̬̗̠͙̯̤̪̣̞̻̰͖͎͉͎̱̼̗̠͚̮̟̠̦̖̪̗̠̣͓͙̞̮̻̥̩͙̫̥̞̫̳̺̫̘͎̙̲̱̼̟̦̼͚̞͙̰̤̭̯͉͚͎̙̠̥̙̩͕͚̬̯̲̬͍̰̬̠͉̗̠͉̺̻̟̞͔̘̲͇̯̗̟̖͙̟̤̤̣͇͉̰̞͚̰̜̺͓͈̯̻̻͚̟̗̖̬̰̞̦͓̮͔̰̳͎̲͒͆̍̆̇̒̃̐͊̂͗̃͑͒͒̍̐̊͋̎͌͐̑̋̍̌̎̂̀́̌͑͆̍̓̍̋̆̈́̓̐̐̽́̀̃̔̔̅̂͑̎͒̈͛̉͛̍̎̂̾̏̿̓̅̉̓͌̈́͑͌͐̅̃͑̋̀͂̌̆̅̎͆͊̓̊̅̓̏̆̓̍̎̈́͋̆̃̃̔̀̒͛͋̾̃̿̂̋̓̅͌͑̊̾̑̄̍̃̎̊̀̓̐̾͐͐̃͌̄̓̊̀͂̏̐̓͑̋̆̓̀̋̏̎͑̌͌̀̈́͗͗̓̂͂͗̉͒̋̀̎̆̉̐̀̂͊̆̑͌́̓̋̽͐̈̇͊̔̋̀͑̈́̄͒͑̂̋̿͋̾͆́̽̋̾͊̇̊̒͐̄͒͂̍̚͘̚͘͘̚͘͘̕̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅN̴̡̛̛̛̝̜̟͍̗͗̉̈́̀̅̒̆͂̇̂̔̈̓̉̈̔̀͑̓̾̄̑͒̈́̓͑̅͑̐̌͛͋͂̓̏̊̎́͒͆̌͆̇̅̆̅͋͊̃͊͆̋̉̃͊̿̔̆̅̍̊̂͊͗̾̈̄͐̓̇̅̾̓͌̆̓̍͐̍̔̓͋̑̇̑͒͑̓̓̎̂̅͊̏̐̓̉̐̆̆̂͛͑̄̌̈́̅̐̅̈̅̌̏̈́̽̂͋̑̊̅̅͌͌̋̎̓͒̓͋͋̐͗͗̍͂̍͆̕̚̕̚̕̕͘̕͘̕͘̚͘͠͠͠͝͝D̶̨̧̨̨̢̡̡̨̢̢̢̧̨̧̢̨̧̢̢̡̟͖̪̜̥̦͔͙͔͕̹͖͎͚̩̫͈͔̮̝̜̗̭̰͙̙͉̭̲̻̹͚͖̱̳͎̪̪̫͔̖̠̪͙̠͙̼̼̩̗̳̬̯̤̙͎̲͉͇͙͉̫̳̜̪̤͇͚͙̠͚͔̣̤̗̗̞̫̳̟̻̱̮̭̗̙̤͖̲̩̹̦̳̳̻̗͉͚̳̥̞͈̫̪̼̖̰̪̤̪̫͇͍̦̖̱̯͙̬̖̫̫̗͉̭̦̞̠̺̳̜̬̠̦̺̼̺̭̯̪̲̣̣͉̩͎̖͇͚̻̱̳̖̻̭̟͎͓̺̬͔̰̫̺̳̖͔̐̇͛̉͗̾̽͌̀̊͒̄̎̆̓̂̂͐̉̽̆͛̓̏̊̅̈͌̓̂̑̾̽̌̑̿̏̽͌̀̈͋̋̊̈́̐͆̊͐̓̆͊̊̑̎͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̢̨̛̛͕̣͈̩̫̫͖̹̖̩̗̯̙͍̟̯̘̦̮͖̗̒̔̄͑̓͗̽̓̐̓͐͑͛̄̋̐̍̈́̋̈́̒̄̽̄̎̂͒̓̉̎̆̀̅̏̿̇̔̈͗̀̍̅̋̇̈́̄̇̑̇͐̿̃́͐̌̈́̒̋͗̓͑̔͐̿̔̽̀̋̋̈́̊̒̍̓͋̃̀͂̒̾̽̊͊̉̀͊̍̔͆͋͊̇͌̎͌̂̅͆̍̇̋̃̈́͂̂̈́̈́̐̓̉̿̓̈́̔̌̅̄̅̒̓̓͛̾̓̇́̀͂͒͋͑̅͒͒̊̀̆̌̈͌͊̇̉̎̍̓̽̓̒̽̓̂̀͂́̒̎̈́̾̽͒̀̎̄̆̈́̉̍͘̚̕̚̚̕̚̕̕͘͘͘̚͜͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅL̴̡̡̘͓̘̼͚͉̮̦͉̞̙̙̭̘͖̟̂̐̆̊̈́͌̆̽̍̽̓̿͌̀̓̊̾́̓̊̅̎̓̊̋̌͂͐̀͜͜Ǫ̶̧̨̨̨̢̨̢̡̡̧̡̢̡̛̛̯̣̗̪͖̺̟̭͚̲̬͕͈̲̙̙̠̱͓͓̼̺̲̫̦̼̭͇͓̥͔̫̭̻͙̺̟̦̙̗͇̞̗̟̼̪̫̮̘̙̺̣͇̟̪̙̪̯͈͇̦͈̭̼͎͙̫͎͎̤͈̱̫̲̪̹̜̠̪̪͓͍͙̯̦͍̳̗͖̦͚̤͈̬͓̪̗̯͈̬̟͓̤̼̮̘̩̩̮͖̯͉̩̤̬̙̦̯̱̳̬̼͈͙̼̫̖̪̲̩͚͎͇̻̼̮̬͉̜̟̪̯̯͎̺̱̝̦̹̪̣̮̣̻̤͔̻͍̫͚͙̟͙̣͈̣͎̼̬͕͎͍͙͖̘͚̮̫̜̣̙̺̰̬̜͕̭͉̝̯̭̼͍̞̝͉̺̳̼̤̔̽̓̍́̉̇̽̀̿̑͐̌͂̀̓̃͛̍͛̐̒̈́͑͌̽̋̐̓̓̿̃̔̿̇͐̆̽̿̓̉̓̌̈́̓̉̈́̀́̔͑͌̊͊̌̿̈́͊̂̇̋̽̔̓̀̅̄͛̓͗͂̂̉̑̏̀̆̾͑̂͒͌̇̇͊͑̈̽̈́̾̽̑̄͛̒̇̀̓̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅV̵̡̡͇̫̜̫̑̌̈́̉͆̑̉̔̄͗̍̏̄͛̇̑̏̆́̂̓̽̈́̾̍̎̃͝͝͝͝͠Ȩ̶̡̢̧̨̡̡̧̡̧̡̧̡̧̧̧̨̢̡̡̨̢̨̧̪̘͔̝͉̤̯̰͉̗͕̩̱͙̩͙̜͙̟̻̯̮͈̮̙̗̟̮̥̤͉̮̥̘͎̙̘̝͔̰̣̦̗̺͚͎͈̭̙̦̩̭̦̪̣̮̠͖̠̩̼̰̩͇̦͚̝͇̱͈͓͎͍̭̖̭͓͉͕̮̺͇̖̖̠͉̟͙͉̝͖͙̗̰͔̟̲̫̩̟̗̭̫̬͙̲̭̫̼͖͔̱̪̳̩͖͚͓̳̮̥̘̲̱͚͍̙̼̮̥̗̖͔̤͖͉͓̭̞̻̜͓̙̲̜͈͈̻͍̫̜̦̮̫̣͕̲̝̤͖͖̗̗̥͇̺̤̼̙͍̻͖̬͍̭̱̠̹̜̼̫̙̙̼̯͇̘̟̼͇͍͕̳͙̞̱͕̰̥͇̗̤̫̮͚̖̺̳͔͙̺̣̞̠̘̣̋̓̔̿̈́̀̽̋́̿́̀̍̅̌̾̈̈́̓̅͐͘͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̨̨̨̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̫̫͓̝̣͍̰̲͈̳̤͚͔̝͈͕͎̤̰͍̰̹̱̼͉̬͉̭̤̰̥͕͖̝̺̝̦͇͈̱̦̰̥̠̝̞̩̖̯͖͖͙̲̳͇̯̗̦̮̬̮̙̼̯̜̗͔̱̫̼̳̗̄͐̏̄̿̒͑̾̋̋͑͊̅̈́̅̅̈́̍̿̂̎̒̍̏́̋̀͗̆̏̐̈́͒̅͗̄̒̿̓̍̆̓̊́̔͒͒̐̇͋̈́̈́̽͋̎̈͌́̅̔͊̀̌̅̑̋͛̌̇̉̑͗̄͋̒̋̏̓͊̓̈̾̄͊̃̑͌̈́̔͛́̉̌̊̎̐̀̔̄͋͋͛̾̒͛̉͐̀̈̌͑̒͛̐̐̂̎̔̋̀̓͛͆̃̋͆̈́͂̀̎̑͌̌͐̈́̿͊̐͆̈̉͋͋́̆͐̉̊͊̂͑͛̉̈́̾̈́̏͆̔̏̽̇͒̌͊̄̀̉̈́̏̈́́̈́̈̿͑̇̆̉̉̾̈́͌̇͑̈́̄̅͌͆͂̏̉̃̈́̀͌̈́̇͌̊̆͊̓̏̐̈̈́͒͐͂̌̔͗͑̎̄͐́̄̈̔̉͋̎̉̾̒͒̋͑͛͛̃̏̒̒̕̚̕͘̕͘̕͘̚̚̕͘̕̕̚̚̚̚̕͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͝Í̷̢̨̡̛̛̛̛͕̼͕͙͓̺̞̰̞͓̙̤̹̹̭̦̙̟̫͓̞͐̆̓̐̂̎̉̐̈́̆̏̾̉͗̀̇̏̆̈́̂͑̔͛͒̍̐̅̈́̈́̓̅̑̽͋̽͛̈́͊̅̒͒͂̓͂́̈̽̾́̐͂̈́̈́̀͐̓͛́̈͌̑̑́̓̊̋͂̊̌̇̈́͂̇̓̇̈́̃͌̍̊̋̑̓̾͛̍̍́͐̐́̍̄͒͆̔̎͐͒̃̽̃̄̃͊͗̈́̐̍̿̆̀̾͒͂̿̾̒̎͂̓̒͋̃͊̇͂̔̀̿̿͆͋̌͆̄̾́̃̈́̅̂̽͐͋̇̓̈̏̈̀̄͋̃͊̉̅̐̄̀̀͌̈́͑̅̽̿͛̑̄̎̀̐̓̈́̓͆̽̉̈́̐̋̌͋̿̚͘̚͘̕̕̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̚͘̚͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅ ̶̧̨̡̧̧̧̡̨̢̛̛̛̛̛͕͚̟̭̭̱̪̣̰̞͎̗̪̯̝̻͔̼̦͖̗̰̠̻̘̭̩͚̼̖̦̞̱͈͇͇̥͖͔̭̹̫̬͇̯͈̥̬̭̘̘̰͚̹̲͎͍͈͙͎͓̭͓͉̜̭̰̣͖̘̣͍̳̻̳̻̥͔̟̏̓̉̓̃̀͊͌̈́͂̅̐̄́̈́̄̆͂̑͛̒͒̓̈́̐̀̉̔̎͗̐̓̏͂̀͂͊͑͂̍͂͋̈́͆͊͛̓͊̎̈̔́̒̍͑̈́̏͋̐͊̆͒̃̽̄̈̈̑̂̒̃̋̏͛̐̑̐̾̊͆̀̓̾̅̊̃̏̽̊̅͑̂̊͂̓̽̎̋̌͊̐̕̚̕̕̚̚̚̚͘͜͠͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝W̵̨̨̨̡̡̢̫̞̲̟̝̣͕̙̹̞̼̬̤̜̦̭̲̯͈͚̪̝̟̺͈̩͚̘̥̫͙̤̹̟͖͎̝̙̥͓̘̝̺̮͍̲͖̬̦̜͚͖͔̳͙̞͈͈͚͚̞̯͍̫̗̙̻̭̥̹̣̮̮̞̦͇͉̖̯͇̙̺̬̣͉͖̫̦͖͕̭̮͙̞̦̟̟͍̪͔͕̠̞̖̫̬̰͔̩͔̽̽̌͂͊̔̀́̋̒̑̂͛̎̂͒̐̔͋͒̀̕͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅI̷̡̡̡̛̛̛̛̭̲̮̟̩̪̦͈̤͔͙̣̖̗̰̳͍̠̤̞̯͓̦̯̲̥͔͖̯̝͊͒̍̐̒̊̈̈́́̉̾͂̽̓͑͛̇̀̆̈̓͗̑̈̉̔̐̏̂̑̆̅̊̿̾̀͑̍̋͋̇̌̏̈̂́́̒͂̏̔̃̒͆̍̆̾̆̓̂̽̄̽͂̔̀̍̑̔͌̔̿̌̽͑̈̊͊̐̈́͌̍̃͋̎͂̐͌̆̏͆̊͛̋̓͊̓̊̐̈́͂̓͌̀̂͑̈́̾͌̇͒̽͐̈́͋̎̍͂̀̍̈̑̈́̀͆̋̂̓͛̐̊̍̉͛͆̓͆̑̾̋̀̅́̓͒͌͐͊̅̾̿̽͂͂̐́͆́͊̒͑͆̐̅̀͆̿̈͆̾̍̄̎̾̀̍̍̄̇̓̈́̌̏͊̃̋̒̆͆͑̏̅̒͛́̓̓̅̊͊̇̈́̈͑͐̓̾̈̽̌̓͒̈́̋̿̇̂̈́͆̉̄̍͂̍̌̽̈́̚̕̚̚̕͘͘͘͘͘̚̕̕͘̕̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅL̴̨̨̧̢̧̢̢̡̡̨̛̛̛̖̮̖̹̙̳̟͔͚̳̯̦̼̳̘͇̺͚̭̤̻͖̠̗̮̳̞̫̹̝̘̦̱̘͖̳̳̺̹̠͓̙̣̻̭͎͔͔͙̩͉̖͚̦̼̥̪͓̥̠͙̟̥̭̳͍̖̙̯̬̩̟̗̻̮̜̰̘̲͈̼͖̤̖̘̤̩̤̭̞̩̗͓̥͙̦̥̩̺͇̩̜̺͚͖̼̼̘̺̤̬̜̗͙̱͔̖͖̣̗̝̘̘̯̥̯͉̱̫͉̱̣̗̰͒̄͂̇̆̏͗͒̉̄̒͛̔̍̔̽̉̋̏͋͛̇́̋̈̋̇̽̑̉͑̐͗̓̍̓̽͊͑̽̽̎̓͆̑̐̄͊̅͑̓̿̒́͒̋̎̓̆͛̔͌̾͐̆̽̈́̈́́̅̽͆̅̈͌̈́̈́́̊͛͂͗͌͐́̾̉͛͆͒̃͑͊̚̕͘̕͘̚̚͘̚̕͜͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅL̵̢̢̛̛̛̛̝̤̱̹͕̼̳͇͈͙̣͇̝̘̤̬̣͈͓̞͚̥̣̤̲̥̳̼̪͂́̑̌͐̈́̋̆͊͊̀̇̓͑̂̆͊̓͐͊̋͐̋̃̽̽̋̈́̅͊͂͋̀̏̇̄̒̐̓̾͛̄̎͂͒͗͛̎̓͗̾͂̎̿̓̄̾̋̒̔͊̈́̉͆̎̇̽̑̂͊̓͐̒̈͊̑̈́̈̈́͑̈́̑̄̄͒̌̂̀̌̅̈̒̆̋̔̿̆̾̚͘̚̚͘͘͠͝͝͝͠ͅ ̵̨̧̢̢̧̢̡̡̢̧̡̧̢̢̡̧̢̛̛̛̛̜̳̬̙͉̪̫̼̲͈͙͖̖̣̫͔̦̪̫̝̟͙̺̪̰̟̟͙̗̱̺̖͇̟̺͖̫̣̻͎͍̣͉̦͈̜̙͈͈̰̳͉͚̩͓̣̺̠̟̞̘̗̹̦̳̙͚̝͈̙̩͙̖̯̠͍̳̰̝̗̦̦̣̩͓̘͓̝̩̼̺̦̼̥̯͉̤̬͈̯̻̩̺̠̞͎͔̩̜͕̘͕̺̪̣͍̲̺͍̫̹̲̗͇̥͎̯̻̱͔̯̖͎͙̜͚͈̦̰͚̖͉̥̞̦̘͔̰̩̗̞̦̟̲̙̼̯͈̬̰͙̘̥̺̝̪̫̻̹̮̗̥͔̲͚̳͇͙̞͉̞̮̼̱̯̮̟͍̱͙̻͉̯͖͇͕̥͈̭̯͙̱̪̺͙͓̤̥̪̬͈̮̙̼͇̪̠̳͎̯̱̝̮͇̖̲̫͎̙̦̞̖̤̪̻̮̣̝͔̜̙̠͈̤͇͓͂̏̇̐̃̐̿͋̐̑̓̊̊̓͒̉͌̈́̀͒̈͆̂͋̀̃͆̓̋͗̈́̍́̅̐̈́͑̓͑̇̒̂̎̍̓̓̾̿̉̂̃̈́͒͂̃͌̇̈́͂̈́͛͋͆̔̄́͐͗̐̔̏̒̃̌̃͗̃̒̽̈́̑̍̏̅̾͗̉̋̒͒̇̑͐͂̌̈́͛̾͊̉̓͒̽̆̑̂̚̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͠͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅŜ̶̢̨̡̨̨̡̧̨̡̧̧̛̛̹̳̜̤̞͎̱̖̼̻̙̲͎͖͎̤̬̝̬̠̲̝̬̻͚̹̜͈͇̱̯̦̖̹̱͇̩͕̝̗̥̩͓̙̝̼̜̮̯̬̞͉̙͔̱̘̝͙͍̻̦͔̜̻͕̥͈̭̭̱̗̞̤̖̥̣̞̪͍̰̤̬̤̻̬͈̗̯̱̳̗̰̜̜̖͊̊̌̇̓̇̎̋̃̅̓͌̿̅̂̽͐̀̍́̒̒̓͗̌̄͂̍̒̊̓̓̃̐́͂̆̈́̋͌̽́̈́͗̈͊̾̐̉̅͛̐͐̿͊̑͊̒̽̔̉̽̽̏̎̓̉̄̇̑͑̅͛̉̓̇̋̿̑͑̿̄͆͗̑̍͑̄͆̍̋̍͐̓̅̔͑̉̋̎̾̈́͛͂͂̿͆͛̏̅͂͂͗̓̓̿̉̿̋̃͋͌̃̿̽̾͑͐̂͛̄͌̂́̉̀͐͌̏̀̽̉̈́̒̅̈́̏̇̅̌͗̽͋̃̉̎̓̄͑̈́͊̊̊͂́̅͆̃̕͘̚̚͘̕̚̚̕͘̕͘͘̚͜͜͠͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅŢ̵̢̡̛̛̛̹͈̜͕͚̰̖̬̬͕̩̺̙̘͔̖̯͍̦̦̼̠̥̠͈̻̺̠̜̩͇̦̼̣̰̳͚̺͖́̈̇̒̾̓͂̊̍̇͑̔̌͊͗̐͂̀͂̾̋̓̆͌̅͂̿̓̈̇̏͊̏͋̿͌͊̽̑̊̓̂̔̈͊̑̃̽͋̔̃͊̌͒͛͒͗̍͊̾͂͒̍̌͑̆̍̉̅͒͋̏́͒̽̓͗̆͗̈̆̈́̎̊̆̈̇̿́̔͛̓͊͆̅͌̋̽̏̚̚̕̚̕̚̕̕̕͜͜͠͠͠͝Ő̶̡̨̧̧̧̧̧̪̠̜̱͔̹͔̬͍̲͕͎̩̥̟͍̣͙͙̰͕̺͕̮͎̫̳̰̪̲̥̞̟̖̠̠̼͖̞͚̭̺̩̟̪̮̙͖̞̭̜͔̲̥̺͍̻̖̳͙̟͖̭̱͖̳͚̘͙͖͖̟͔̯̣̪̞͕͍̖̘̦̱͕̰͐̃̆̈́̀̒̈́̈́̈́̒͆̉̊͐͋̾͋̇̓͛͂̈́͊̌͆̔̈́̌̋͐̊̉̎̿̑̉̃͒͛̅͐̍̍̈̍̋̓̐͋͘̕͠ͅͅP̵̧̨̧̢̢̧̧̡̡̢̢̢̧̢̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̦̱̺̘͎̘̱̻̬̱̼̝͎͇͈̩͈̪̟̣͎͇̞̳̤̤̥͎̺̝̞̺̹̥͎̥͕͈̱̙̩̻͕͈̺̣͉̣̠̥͉̲͖̬̝̻̗̱̟̹̙̺̜̺̹̟̠̝͍̳̹̮̻̲͈̩̖̻̤̰͇͍͎̘̺̹͓̣͙͈͈̥̯̖͙̪̖̭̬̪̙͎̭̦̙̟̺͕͍͇͓̙̖͚̻͎͎͙̟͖̹̞͔͚̦̯̺̮̦͎̠̖̥͚̤͍̗̺̠̤̲̘̰͕̹̳̻̪̩̠͕̲̼̱̪̯̣̫̮̞̙̺͓̗̖͙̟̹̰̤̫̼̞̖̣͈̠͉͉̼̫̙͎͍͖̪͕̠̮͇͍̺̜̠̝̘͍͚̜̻̣͇̩͈̖̜͙̙͙̯̭̯̱̹̮̱̲̞̤̭̹̪͖̳̬͖̩̟̯͈͍̳̥̬̖̘͔̪̖͎͔̻̠̳͔͚͕̒̃̒̒̆̒̃̂͋̈́͆̋̅̽̉͒̾̐̄̊͐͛͌͌̑̀͊̽̌͛͛̆͒͌̋̂̅̓͐̓̑̾̊̏̅̐̀̃̒̓̄̄̋͐̐͒͋͒̐̽̈́̊̈́͂͛͐͌̈́̈̾̓̊̏̓̓́̎͒͐̉̌̊͗͋̉͂̐̉̈́͋̋͆͗͑̏̾̀̿͒̽̽̽͛̉̑̈̄̐̐͋̃̉̊̓͛͛̍̈́̇͌͊̾̑̏̈́͋̈́͒̓́̈́̅̊͋̕͘͘͘̕̕̚̕̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̧̧̢̢̨̨̢̨̧̧̨̛̳̦̜̖͚̗̻̥̫͕̺͎̳̬̯̙̝̘̖̞͉̼̖̖̟͚͎͖̝͚̲͓͕͍̣̗̺̭̫̭̮͈̫͈̤͉̥̭̦͓̭̮͎̯̩̪̱̟̞̺̬͙̹͉͔̥͕̩̩̣̘̣̰͍̮̥̪̪̟͚̤͉̱̭̮͔͔̘͖̰̞͎̘̝̺͍͍̭͎͇͙͉̱̩͈̖̗͙̲̠͔̥̲͓̱̣̻͚͚̬̐̐̇̀̾̂̓̐̃̓͆̂̔́̐̃̇͛͆̊̇͑̓̅͆̄̈́̾̅̔̏̐͗̏̒̈̿̕̚͘̕͝ͅA̸̢̡̡̭̜̘͙̯̱̫̖̩̣̭͎̳̭̮̠̰̰̙̪̳̫̗̜̳͎͋̒̔̃͛͂̐̃̈́̊̈́́͊͌̆͊̄͛͆̚͝ͅͅͅŢ̷̢̢̧̧̰̠̹̖̖̠̩̖̩̩̜̰̝̘̯̻̗̤͚̫̟͕̥͉͇̬̬͓̹̥̗̳̞͚̙̝̮͍͓̻̗̦͔̹̜̙̻̤̩̆̈́͛̈̎̄̊̾́͂̈͌̐̄̾̈́̄̀̀͋̏̓͐̓͆̐̋̑́̈̅͂̊̂̏͆̈́̌̾̔̔̔̓̾͌̈́̾͛̀̆̐̌̑͛͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅ 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̷̡̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̱̞͖̲̻̟͙̲̖̤̥̺̤͔̩̳̘̺̼̟̪̪͓̤͍̩̱̱͎̬͔̫͓͉̺̪̠̮̳͈͖̣͔̼͕̩͕̥̥̺̯͓͉͉͙̠͖̩̖̳̺̹͙̝͙̪͙̘̔̍̈́͆̽̓͑̈́̾̔̾̀̀̅͒͋̐̔̂̅̎͊̊̀͐́͐̑̇̋̈̇̎̀̆̆̈̓͗̽̌̑͂͋̋̐̽̅̇͒̃͛̂̓̑̏̑̋̅̌̈̈̅̒̊̿̈́̋͗̇̅̎̔̌͛̓̌̄̀̌̑͂̃̾̈́́͗͌̐͆͒͗͒͆͊͊̂̽̽̅͌̈́̅̔͌͋̾͂̆̉̐͌̌̎́̍̑̍̊̈́̾̈́̊̇́̽̔̐̏͒͛́͆̽̔̾̈̏͐̈́̒͒̏̋͌̄͋̓̿̈́͂̅̇̈̚̚̕͘̕̕̕̚͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅD̸̡̧̡̨̧̧̢̢̧̢̨̧̡̧̡̢̡̡̢̛̛̛̞̭̰̭̭͇̤̦̮̖̩̝̖͍͔̱̜̙̦̮̠͚̲̝̗͍̩̭̩͉̬̰̙̭̞̹̼̖͍͎͔͔̝͔͉͈̳̖̻̗͙̤̳̫̹̱̰͙̫̬͙̰̬̗͈͕̬̺͇̻̳̞̥͍͖̱̖̖̣̦͚͖͔̜͓̲͓̭̼̮̜̟̗̙̻̲̫̘̩̦̪̪͚̞̹̬͕̤͍̦̗̥͙̣͖̩̼̗̖̺̩͕̯̫̩͈͖͓̙͎̹̙̣̺̣͚͓͇͈͍̜͈̺̲͇̻̠͖̟̥̗̖̥̜̞̙̳̳̙̰̪̲̖͖͙̗͓̝̭͇͔̯͉̼͈̘͍̠̲͚̯̖͓̗͓̹͓͇̯͔͈̘̲̱͎̫̼̖̆̉̊͛̓͗̈́͛͑̋͂̈́̅͋̔̈́̅̇̑̑͗̒̎͋̓̑̃͑͌̇̓̃̏̈́̓̀͒̒̈́̀̏̐͂̓̂͆͑̄̈́͌͛̌̑͗̎̾͂̽̊̾̌̌̉̏̽̓̈̅̓͗̎̉͐̌̍͆̾̇̊͋̉̊̍̅̀̑̎̌͋̓́̎̔̓̎̅̃̓̎̈̋̆̔̅͐̇̓̉̇̑̂̈́̂̎̄̇̃̋̅͊͛̈́͑̉̈́͒͆̓͌̇͛̈͗̒̀͗̓̐̓͌͌̓͊͋̽̑͂̒̊̂̅͊͗̌̾̿͋̌̉̊̈́̄̊͗͌̇̈͗͊̌̅̿͂͒̔̓̓̓͒̈̿͂͂̒͒͆̓̂̽͂̈́́̋̀̃̾̂̔̃͒͗͂́̇̆̓̈́̊̓̉͊̌̆̍̽̏̕̕͘̚͘̕̚̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅR̷̨̧̧̧̛̛̛̛̛͓̘̪͎͍̳̼̣̟̪̼͇̗̰̮̞͙̥͍͕̥̭̦̞̭̘̥̰͙̥̝̳͍̼̩̻̦͚̮̺̰̱̝̪̣͍̱̙̱̱̬̙̠̟̝͉̙̠͇̖̫̺̥̳͍̣͖̱̙͍̱͇͓͓̩̘͉̗̳̠̦̘̲͍̮̜̲̱̙̘͈̭̋̑͛͊̀̏͂͑͒͊̈́͐̒̈́̅̎̃͐͊͌̉́̒̂̇͂̊̃͐͑̈̿̒̄̒̎̇̎͐͗̏̋̈́̅̾̒̇̑̂̐̆͂̅̃̌̾͊̋͆̆̏̓̿̔͛̾̎̑͐͑͆̊̈́̈́̑̑̃̐̎̊̄͒̓̔͂̍̈̈̌̉͆̓̿̿̊̍́͊̑͌͋͑̈́̋͂̐̉̎͆̀̒͗̃̓̓̂̌́̌̒̽̈́̾͒̍̔͑̍̅͒͑́͗̐͐͊̏͗̈́͑̀̈́̔̓̏͂̏͐̇̀̌̓́͒̊̐̈́̇̈́̎̋͗̍͗̑̈́̃̿̓̓͂̿̒͗̈̏͋̽͊̄̂̎̐̋̊͑́̈̂̂̊͐̅͛̄͌̂̽̎̋̊̌̌̎̐̋̿̊̓͘͘͘͘̕͘̕̚͘͘̚̚̕͘͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅḬ̵̢̢̢̧̡̨̡̢̨̨̢̡̧̡̧̢̡̢̢̨̨̢̡̨̛̛̤̤͔͔̥̹͎̲͙̱̘̜̞͙̣̠̼̻̹̰̳͙̭͈̟̳͚̲̫͚̦̮̭̦̫͈͍̟͕͖͙̻̙̣̣̗̙͉̻̱̫̭̥͍̙̲̟̯͈̩͍͕̠̠̳̭̲̱͔̦̝̰̩͍̬̘̫̮͕̼̻̜̦̗̙̹̦̠̭̫͎̤̭͔͕̥̹͈̭̗͔͈̮͖̟̦̻̫̩̞̮̺̮̠͍̝̱̙̫̙̳̣̫̜̰̼̞̫͉͕͚̗̳͍͔̻̖̝͎̯̙̺̲̹̣͇̙͇̹̞̼̥͕̻͇̱͕̹͓̙̪̟͈͇̱͎̪͇̻̝͚̪̤͍̻̺͎̣̘͇̟̤̫̦̞̦̗̬̱̙͎̯̱̰̜̜̳̩̖̺̜͓̲͎̱̭̞͉̹̘͉͎̤͇̰͙̦̥͕͖̦̞͉̙̞͉̟̝̏̎̓̅̈́̂̾̋̓͐̒̉̈́̋͑̂͗̏̈́̿̎͗̇̌̉̊̋̍̇͊̉̃͗̓̆̏͑͌̀̋̔̔̆̉̽̽̆̿̐̓̋̑̏͂͛̽̆̏͌̋̔̽̅͆̎̇̎̒́͛͛̄͗̀̈́̓͌̿͐̈́̓̑͗̔̉̓̋̎̈́͆͑̓̾̈́̊̓͌͐̓̆̍͌̌̈̎͂̚͘̚̚͘͘͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅP̴̢̨̡̢̨̧̨̢̡̛̛̛̛̘̣̝̼̫̲͚̪͉̗͕̗͍̫̬̠̲͙͇̻̯̙͎̭͙̗͈̗̖͕͚̳͓̥̩̻͖͎̟̮̬̰̬̙̲͙̳͙̜̪͖͕̱̲͉̙̝̺͕̞͉͓̤͈͔̪̳̩͇̹͔̘̮͎̲̭̻̣̱̱͖̙͚̤̩̜̗͔̠̯̗̫̼̞̗̲̭̦̹̗̹̮̱͉̘̥̭͓̼͙̰͉̝͙̍͛͊̇̌̍̋̿̃̀̈́̂̏͒̎̉̇̏̄̄͒͐̌̂͋͋̅͛̒̈̐̒̇̊͂̄̅͊͐̉̃̒́̈́̽̄̑̽̎͋̔̍̅̑͒̾̀̐͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅṠ̵̡̧̨̨̨̧̨̨̧̡̢̡̡̢̡̢͍̜̜̜͈̞̜̯͍̯̲̺̬̲͎̘̞͓̭͚͔̞̝̞͉͕̝̪̦̖͕̖͎̯͍̠͈̝͚̝̜̭̺̮̹̞̤̮͇̠͉̤̳̭͔̪̯͇͙̮̱̯͕͖̮̮͚̹̪̱͈̞̙͚̞͕̮̳̰̰̦̞͖͍͈̤͚̱̥͔̹̼̭̖̻̯̬̻͖̳̹̠̜̩͕̪͔̝̺͎͍̖͔͚̜̰̪̪͍̣͉̭̣̰̦̲̣̼̳̖̗̲̪̤̩̬͕̦̦́̄̂̈̊͂̽̓͋̐̄̈́̎̀͑͆̂͋̌͑̀̌̒͌̓̒̋̀̽̍̓̅͐͌̐̓̓̍̉͗̐̿͊̑́͋̾̐̽͆̔͛̃̑̆̽͌̄̈́̓̈̈́̇͛̓͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̢̨̧̧̧̢̢̡̡̨̡̨̨̛̛̛̛̤͇͖̤̯͕͇̯͔͇͈̜̮̘̪͖͇̺͍̪̱̰̞̺͚̜̖̲̳̭̫̲̝̰͎̥͔̗̲̥̼̬̝͉̩̬̼̝̯͖̠̫̻̤̥̱͕̲̩̠̞̙̣͕̺̫̭̩͓͎͔͕̙̮͖̦̥̪̯̩͍͎̠̼̠̘͕̭̥͔̻̭͖͙̘͚̦̼̮̼̝̘͍̪̮͍̬͖͔̦̺̩̩̠̬͖̜̘̩̱͖̜̯͚͎̗̻̘͕̥̞̤̱̭̙͙̯̻̤̺̻̦̠̻̠̮͖̝̺̖͍̹̺͓͓̳̘̹͎͍̲͔̯̘̩̤̞̪̪̳̪͉͕̝̰̘̩̻̯̫̰̙̝͔̥̞͖̞̟̟͍̼͕̥̬͖͕͕̼̺̭̻̰̼̤̰̩̟̪͈͇̺̝͎̻̮̟̩͕̟̳̠͍̩̞̙̫̟̻̖͎̫̄̆̈́̅͂͛̆̋̉̾͌̔̈̊́̓̀̔̅̉̌̿̈̓͛̄͌̋̄͌͂͛̔̄̊̉͗͋̾̈̈́̇̓͌̽̀͌̎͒͛͌̈́̏͆̈͒̎̍̄͊̽̈̓͐͐̊̎̈́̽͛̉͆͌̾̌̑̆̿̑̉̄͌͂̿̅͑̂͋̉̊͒̒̿̾̅͋̌̆̒̽͋͌̌̂̔̀͌̔̑͆͊̅̓̃̀̒́̀̇̓̊̉̋̇̽͒̎͛̔͐̄̉̏̒̅̿̒̈́͌͊̉͗̎̏̽̅̎͆̌͗̇̇͋̚̚͘̕̕̕͘̚̕͘̕̚̚̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅF̷̨̡̨̡̨̡̮̬̥̱͙͖̮͎̮̝̻̞̤̖̖̝͇̻̩̺̘̹̱͎̣͉͓͈̱̯̣̻͚͖̞̦̳͍͍̬̪̗͕͔̝̮̱̙̲̼̩̰̝̰̉̊̑͊̎͂̆̈́͌͌̌̔̏̓͂̽͂͛̽̔̀̕͘͜͝͝ͅR̷̡̨̧̨̡̧̢̨̨̧̢̛̛̜̜̖̬̭̳͍̮̲̱͕̯̹̝͎̘͖̼̙͎̥̜̣͚̜̹̟͍̬̼͇͕̖̪͔̦̘͎̻̦̝̘̖̤̟̙̥̱̞̹̖̫̮̯̤̯̘̳̟̻̟͍͚̲̹̫̝̪̦̙̦̩̭͖͉̗̗͇̫̮̗̳̙̬̤͉̠̻͕̩̀́̀̐̏̾̽̈́̅̍̽̿̌̑̅̅̃̽̃͐͆̆̋̅̃͗̃̂͛̋͒̆́̃̉́̎̍̐͗̇͂͐̽̾̅͂̏͐̏͋̎̃͗̀͗̂̉̄̑́̐͋͊̈́̿̏̀̀̎̒̿͑̓͑̄̋̔̑̓̃͂̃͑͌̊̿͂̾̅͛̅͊̄̋̀̈́̉̍̔͂̏̊̎̈͗̓̆͊́͑̎̽̐̑͌̾͒̌͗̎̐̾͛̐̎̌͌̅͆̈̿̿͆̕̚͘̕̚̕̚̕̚̕͘̚̕̕̚͘͘͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅƠ̶̡̨̢̧̡̡̧̨̨̧̢̧̧̧̙̙̖͖̬̬͓̮̘̟̦̯̻͚̹͍̠̙̯̦̙͈͙͖͕̭̼̟̰̞̰̹͈̩͚̱͖̥̮͎̺̻͉̪̯̻̻̮̰͕̗͙̣̝̬̳̯̙̺̲̬͍͎̳͉̲͙͎̝̤͓̮̞͉̻͕̱̣͇̦͖̼̭͎̖̞̣̠̩͎̣͇̲͉̱̮̗͍̘̝͍͖̥͉̘̲͇̰̬͍̬͕̳̼͈̪͇͓̯͖̠̠͕͚̜̞͚͎͈̱͈̩̗̯̰͇̲̩̦̅̽̍̃̆̀̈́̎̂̒̍̋̓̀̓̑͋͐͗̆̄̎̑͐̈́̎͆͋͌̉͐̉͌̐͌͑̍̇̽̑̋̂̌̑̅̿́̂̌͐̈́̊̏̆̈̓͋́̀̋̎͐́̆̔͗̃͆̒̚̕͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅM̷̨̢̧̡̨̡̧̨̨̨̢̧̢̨̢̧̧̢̧̡̛̛̘̞̤̘̘̖̙̺͕̱̲̰͍̱͓̗̻͍̗̰̤̠̳̗͚͉̲̦͕̳̯̘̫̭͕͚̲̻̮̱̘̳̩̞̤̘̳͉̱̹̗͍̻̤̟̯̜̪̞̗͔̫̙̮̘͉̟̞̪̭̹̥͕̯͚̦̮̖̟̤͉̺̺̻͔̰͇̖̬̦̰͈͓̬̳̥̥̖̲͖͓̥̥̞̰̯̘͙̥̰̫̦͓̬̜͖̦̙͕̹͙̤̹̰̜̮͔̫̞̜̯͔̮̝͔̭̫͉̥̮͙̹̩̟͙͙̤̤̜̼̠̼̱̩̻͕̙͇̭̲͈̔̍̀̀̎̀͆͋͂̈̇̉̏̅̉̾̐̈́̑̀͒̔̈́̿̒͊͒̃̾̄͛͂͊̓́̄̏̊͌̎̑̈́̿̌̏̾̒͊̓̿̎̃̓̇̾̉̿͐͂͑̆̍̓̆̆̕͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̧̡̡̧̛̛̺͖̱̫̣̺̦̣̖̥̜͓̩̠͙̬̳͉̻̯̠̣̺͉͙͙̲̭̣̮͍͋̾̈͑̿́̑̈́͋̄̅̏̂͆̈́̀͛͋̐͌͒̓̀̂͒͆̍͋̈͋̔̂̔̀͑̓̇͊̌͊͑̋͋̊̊́͆̃̇͛̃̾͂̍͌̊̀́̑̍͒̂̌̂̄͌͑̎̍̈̃͑̓̄͗͗̋̃͗̏̓͊͂̊̍́͌̄͑̏͊͋̇̚̕̕̕̕͘̕͘͜͠͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅM̵̨̨̧̢̢̨̨̡̧̢̧̧̛̛̛̥̮̳̬͕͚͇̠̻̣͎̦̬̯̱̯̤̩̭̠̯͇̗̺̩̜̻̞̼̦͉̤̟̳̗̝̘͕͙͚͚̞̙̘̫̠̲̠̗̖̝̙̳̞͍͉̥̯̯̱̤̠̝͙̝̜̞̤̞̣̲͔̱̮̤̱͙̣̖͓̩̯̱̺̠̠̮̱̦͚̤̩̙̮̯̟̭̠͓̤̮̯̺̘̮̹̲̹̜̟̝̣̪̱̥͇̪̜̜̠͇͇̻̭͚̺̖̫̍̔̏̽̾̈̒̈̎̀̂̈́̋̓̑͌͒̈́̃̀͗̿̿̓̈́̈́̔́̓̏̽̌̆̄͒̈́̈́͑̽̍͛̌̋̄́͌̊̾̈́͛̉̏́̉̐̉͋̆̉̽̐̈́͑̑̓̿̍̂͆̿̎̅̅̉̋͐̎͐̄̊̾̍͌͒͐̔̎͑̈͛͆̍̏̂̓̉̊̈́̄̇̍͗̍̽͆̃͛́̐̉̃̕̚̚͘͘̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅY̷̢̡̧̧̨̧̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͓̮͈̪͕̪͕̮̲̭̘̘̲̘̣̺̘̫͇̜̙̙̣͕̼̰̜̗̹͕̥̣̙̱̼͙̯͚̳̝͕̜͔̘͓̭̫̙͖͈͙̯̬̼͙̝̳̪̣̞̘͙̺̠̦͙̹̺̦͑̋͐̅̐̑̈́̓͌̊͒͌̄͂̓̆̽͗͑̋̔̈́̈̓̇͛̉͆̐͊̎͗̉̈̑̿́̄̒̆̄̈̀̒͛̌͒̓̀̈͂̏̅̔̈́̉͂̂͋̉̔̃́̒̑̅̾́̇̈́͗̆̅̓̿͌̿͛̆̎̎͂̍̆̑͑̊̾̀͌̑̋͆͂͛̀̑̅̋̒͐͆͋̑̊̀̍̍̄̈́͛̒̉͗̇̅͗̉̎̃̈́͗̆͋̈́̐̉̔͂̆͂̂͛̑͑̎̀́͊͛̇͂͋͐̓̃̈́͑̒̋̓̍̓͒͑̔̃́̈́̽͊̃͂̍̈́̔͆̉̃͆̔̀͋́̎̈̊̈̽̒̊̉̉̎̕̕̕̚̚͘͘̕̚͘͜͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅ 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̷̢̨̨̧̧̢̨̢̨̧̢̨̢̢̡̨̢̧̡̢̧̢̢̡̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛͇̩͚͓͙̤͔̱͈̠̤̪̞̝̮̤͉͖͎̺̲̱̞̫̟͍̭̠̲͔̰̗̩̘͓͔̖͈̳̹͙̖̫̞̣̦͎̟̘̼͖͔̯̟̭̘̦̹̣̘̫͚̩͇̗̞̻̲̺̬̹̰̣̻̞̰͓̯̟͚̖̞̺̦̪͔̪̠̯̘̹͙͍͈̖̼̥̝̬̥͚̭̝͉͎̰̳͇͍͚̟̬͍̗̰̹̣̭͓̠̺̹̣̲̰̫̠̦̰̭̜̱̱̬̰̗̫̮̩̜̜̪̣̮̗̼̤͙͕̻͕̼̰̘̻̰͍̠̤̥̺̘̭̤̜̤͓̼̬͕̼͎͎̜̲̩͕̱͓̣̬̣̗͙̜͕̪̮̣̩̥̦̜̙̙͇̤̗̖͎͇̙̱͓͖̰̯̣̖̝̀̊̾̀̎́̓̌̑̎̾̄̈̅̾̾̆̿̃͑̉͆̽̔͌̀͒̍̉̊̐̏̑̓̎͒͗͐͆̊̑̉͆͗̏͐̑̌͑̄̆͑̐͂͂̊̽͐̈͂̓̈́̈́̈͑̿̎̽̓̒̉̈́͂͑͑̾̌̓̂́́̏̂̅̌͐̇͛̀̏̐̃̋̓͊͆̍̀̏͋̅̂̀̉̔͘̚̕͘̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͠ͅͅF̷̢̡̨̧̨̢̡̢̡̢̨̨̨̧̢̺̳͙̦̝̩͖̙͚͍̠̩͎͉̘͕̠̱̗͉̻̼̞̩̦̝̱͙͎͚̭̠͓̪̼͍͚̪̺̥̖̞͎̱̤̦̮̳̰̲̲̺̜͖͖̼̳̣̳͇̩̻͕͉̺̣̗̞̳̖̘̭̗͖͎̮̲̺͙̥͚͓͙͙̣̰̼̰͔̜̹̘̤̰̰̗͔͍͇̮̦̺̘̩̰̟̥̱̥̤͙̗̪̲͈̗̅́̀͋̌̏͐̊͒͐́̎̉̌̈̔̈́̽̑̇̂̓̽̈́̌͋͐̒̎̂̈́͒̿͆́̆̌͑̔͑͗͂͆͒͛̔́͆͛́̃̈́̓̊͂̏̈̎͋͊̍̉͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅR̷̡̛̛̛̛̛͇̰͎̻͎͉̲̦̲̘͍͎̖̟̦̬̣̯̘̥̫̰̊̀͗̒͊̄̆̐̔̔̌͆̈̑͌̂̃̿̎̌͂̌̈̾̒̒̋̔̿̊̓̋̍͒̔̇̆̔̈͛͌̋́̃̓͌̇̉̃̈́̈̂̆͛̽̍̀̀͆̊͐̃͐́̈́̓̑̈́̒͑͋̊̈́̄̓̈́̾͆̇̽͋̓̈́̈̒̃̂̃̍̇̈́͋͐͑̇̑̈́̋̏̂͋̿̉̎̔͑̈̆̈́̔̃̑̆̀̌̍̽̋̓͐͒̇̈́͂̌̎̓̈̽̉̈̔͗̾̍̒̈́͛̒̍̿̐̃̀̿̒̈́͑͌̍͆́̽͊̈́͊͆̑̐͛̊̍̌̈́̉̂̾͑̇̋̅̐̄̏́͊͗́̏̐̅͒͋͛̒̏̉̋̆̓̅͒̓͂̅͐̈́̎̌̂̏̿̏̈́́̈́͂͊̏̓͂͆͗̓͆̓̽͆̄̅͌̉̎̇̚͘̚͘͘͘̕̚̚͘̕̕͘͘̚̚͘͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠Ǫ̵̢̢̡̨̢̨̡̡̨̡̡̨̨̧̨̢̢̡̨̢̢̢̢̡̛̛̛̳̳̩̭̻̱͉̪̜͕͈̠̳͓̜̲̗̹̣͓̼̯̜̟̺̖̻̺̯͓̰͍̺͖̰̖̼̻̲͍͕͉̫͉̗̻̳̥̫͎̮͍͍͕̝͙̻̠̦͖͍̠̙̯̤̤̥̺͇̞̮̤̻̻͎̮̤̟̠̰̗̪̳͓̦̣̮̗̞̰̙͍͇̘͍̖͈̟̖̻̼̫͓͔̩̭̻̻̞̠͓̼̦̮̝̲̖̫̻̲̠͕̺̩͇̼̞̜̩̠̣̗͖̘̦̻̟̱̪͎͚̙̺̳̱͍̗̦̹͔͕͍͙̰̲͙̞̞̼͓͕̣̰̳͉̮͉̲͈̭̹̺͓͙̺͚͖̫̮͍̞͎̖̜̻͉̻͙̳͕̟̱͚̙̼͕̘̲̙̞̦͚͕̝̩̗͎̬̩͓̩̻̮̯̹̮͓̠̹̝̙͉̝͐̆͛̃̒̃̂͋̈́̔͗̇͒͋̀̐̌̽̓̈́̈́̔̇̀̔͌̓͂͗͒̿̒̓͐͌̋̄͑̆̓̒̏͊̾͆͐̓̿̃̂̃̒͂̈́̇̐̈́͗̓͛̇̿̿͑̌̔̂͋̇̌̊͐̽̾͂̋̈́̓͐́̽̇̾̒̄̃̅̒͋̾͗̓̓̀̏̆̑̉̋͆͑͗͐͆̐̂̂̿̎̑̾̿̋̅̽̇̐̃̍̈́͋̈́̾̔̾̓̎̄͂̍̽̔̇̂͋̾͑̍͂̅̃̈́̄̌̄̑̆̇̽̓̀̐̇̈́̀̌̔̆͛͒͐̀̎̈́̍̃͗͗̂̒̈́̋̏́͒͑̃͒̿͒̾̕̕̚̕͘̚̚̚͘͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅM̸̡̧̧̡̧̧̨̢̨̨̨̢̢̡̡̡̢̧̧̡̨̧̡̨̡̡̧̡̧̧̧̡̢̨̛̛̛͚̺̥̲͙̩̬̰̝͔̙̰̤̱̘̥͉̺͚̺̳̠̥̲̖̱̹̼͈͇̺̱͍̟̯̫̹̜͉̫̱̪̼̘̩̰̻̩̜͔͈̙̟̟̻̟̜̻͓̞̤̘̠̱̟̳̭̞̙̘̙̙̖̼͔̠̦̣̝̫̯̥̦̮̫̜̙̹͕̯̦͕̦͍̜̣̫̥̯̘̳̪̞͔̬̦̘̱̪͚̟͇͖͔̠̣̭̣͉͖̹̭̥̖͚͙̘̯̟̹̗̖͉̥̗͓̦͔͈͕͙͓̠̜͖̣̣̬̬͙̯̱̼̩̖̘͎̪̠̦̳̻̩̝͖͈̻̱̙̮̯͚̰̫̥̥̱̗̤̦͎͈̯͉̤͉͇͔̤̮͔̙̪̳̟̝̭̘̙̬̪̲̞̰͔̤̙̥͍͍̤̦͉͖̫̮̦̭̪̣̣̹͚̻͓̥͕̦̯̤̻͇̳̳̦̻̙̰̳͓̻̙̩͉̈́̊͛͆̀͆̉̊̅̎̿͂̈́̒̅͗̏̈̈́͗̈̐̈̊̾̽̿͊̔̒̃̎̌̆̎̾̆͛̊̀̅̌̊̃̈́̌̉̒͐̐́̍͌̆͆̈́̈́̋̈͐͌̉́̔̈́̌̈́͗̾́͐̐͗͌̒̄̔͗̈́̂͒̐̈́̾̏̑̈̽̽̾̏̏̽̌̑̊̽̐̆̾̿̂͒́̇͂̔̊̓͑͋̔̍͛͆͗̾͂͛̈̏͒̄̆͌͊͆̂͐̅̈́̓̈́͑͐͛̋̆̔̓̎̃͊̅̏͗̀̆̈́̓͆͌̎̓̃̈́͌̎̄͒̽̅͊͋̐̏̐̀̅̌͋͆̒͆̿̃̕̕̚̚͘͘̕̚̚̚͘͘̕͘̕͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ 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̷̨̡̧̡̢̨̧̢̢̨̧̡̢̢̧̢̧̢̡̢̨̡̨̢̡̛̛̬̱̭̠͈̠̤͎̼̤̣͍̰̜͙̻̲̹̠͓̬̜͙̳̼̥͔͚͉̖̻͈̟̱̤̬̪̙̠̜̰̪̟̭̖̻̠̥̖̥͇̳͍̻̪͓̪̣͈̫͉̣͇̟͉͇̱͖̪̩̰͖̬̲̬̬͎̳͇͈̰͎̳̦̖͇̪̜͖͔͈̣̠͓̼͖̮̼̤̱̪͕̭͚̞̦̤͖̱̤͇̬̖̦̹̝̜̮̮̗͇͚̖̹͔̗̣̩͈̝̻̮̠̝̖̹̬̦͚͖̦̠̮̼͉̗̤̲̥̰̜͖̱̰͍̩̭͕̜͔̹̺͎̹̺̦̲̍̏́̏̂͆̈́̅͛̽̐̾͗͒̈́̇̽̈̿̐̓͆̆̿̍̓͑͂̓͐̓̂̈̒̒̾͂̀͐̊͋̈́͊̓̑͑́̈́̎͋̊͌͗̔̈́̓̄̔̃̄̃̄̎̉̔̈́͊̆̉͑̇̽̄̊̾͂͐̓͐͂̃̌͐̏̌̂̈͆̈͊̾̊̉̃͒͌̈́̃̃͑͊̇͊̎͌̆̄̅̍̉̓͆̔̏̐͛̈̇̎͊̆̿̿̽̆̃͑̇̔͑̑̿͊̚̕̕̕̕͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅI̴̧̡̡͈̼̥̣͙̝̣͓̫̘͍̺̜̠̻̱͎̼̥̳̯͍̳̫͍͔̫̯̘͎̠̯̯̖̳̻̓̉́̃̎̾̍̓͂̆̔̍̾̃̂̈̈́̀̐͆̄͒́̅͆̔͆̃̋̈́͒͂̃͛̏̃̂͘̚͘̕͘͘͜͠͝͝͝ͅ 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̷̨̨̨̡͖͓̮̲͍̣̱͍̞̳̠͎̳̹̯͙͇̹̼͕͇̻̦̱̟̯̝̱̝͇̜̥̩̿̆͛̔̅̊͐̌̾̀̉̉̅̍̀̈́̇̀̉̅͂̕͜͠

̷̧̡̨̨̢̛̛̛̛̛͎̦̭͓̠͙̠̙̘̼̻̻̪̠̖͉̳̯̩̣̞̜̗͉̩͍̺̞͇̝͓̼͆̍͆͌̐̂́̓͊̂̋͆̇̌͌͑̈̇̒͑̿̓̂̒̔̃͋̊̈̑͑͒͐̇̿̈́̒̈́̎̈́̈́̍̍͆͋́̂̊͑̀͗̈́̽̎̒̍͋͊͐̔̊̉̉̄͐͆͛̋͋͛͂͗̾̄̌̊̔͛̌̓̈́͂̈́̏̑̒̈́͆́̌̿̾͗̌͛̇͗̀͛̓̈̐́͊͌͋̈̋̑̏̄̀͑̈́͛̽̄̎̑͂̔̀͗̐͗̓̋̇̑̀͊̇̒͊̂̿̉̆̿͊͆́͌̈́̃̉͆̒̽̍̀̏̎͋̏̆̀͗̉͋̓̐͐̏̈́̆̉̈́́̉̃͛̏̓͆͑̐̓̊͗̋̿̒͛̊͆͂̅̾̿̿̈́͛̑͊͌̚̚̚̚͘̚͘̕̚̕̕͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅỸ̸̨̢̢̢̨̡̧̧̨̡̧̢̛͔̜̘̥͙̯̯̪̼͔̙̝͓̼̪̲͙͚͔͓̯̟̜̜̱͖̟̣͚̱̫̹͎̗̣̞̦̹̯̞͇̗̪͕͈̘̖̲̘̤̳̱̟̤͉̤̬̬͈̫͉̘̝̖̫̯̼̣̩̯͉̘͓̭̞̤̞̞͔̫̺̘̰̬̯̤͇̣̯̹̙̫̗͙̖̰̜̻͎̤̗͕̣̪̦̦͈̥̻͉̝͇̺̩͇̜̝͎̠̖̰̺̳̥͚̥̟̮͖̿̄̆̄̊̄̆̒̇̂̂̇͛́̿̊͗̍̑̓͗͑̓͋͆͗̄̓̃̿͂̋̍̔͋͋̌́̌̔̎̎͂̋͛͗̆̅̾̈̄̇̆̓̆̅͊͗̋̓̔̓͂̏̍̌̊͋͑̀̃̅̀̐̆̽̇̾̾̅̍̈́͑̐̓̾̔̄͌̅͐͒̓̾̿̈͊̊̓̒͂͌̂̈̃̓̏̓̄̏͆̎͋̽͐̐̅͆̀̑̃̎̈̑̈̓̓̓͗̇̈́͆̅͒̃̍̀̆͋̊̒̊̿͐́̉̾͒͆̿̒͗̅̿́̈͒́̃̃͑̃͂͑̾͑͛͋͑̏͗͂͒̄̈́̃́̑͊́̔̌͊̎̏͌̚̚͘͘̚̚̕̚̕͘̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅƠ̵̢̧̢̧̡̨̨̢̡̢̨̨̡̧̢̢̧̧̢̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̼̘̬̮̫͎̼̠̳͚̖̩͎̙͕̜̝̺͇̗̜̲͇͚͈͙̻͎̮̲͚̬͚̠̜̟̫̺͈̳̜̙̺͇͔̻̭̖̟̮̼͍̟͎̭̺̹̟̙̺̜̬͔̲̫̱̫͙̫͚̱͖̩̠̣̬̬̰̜̠̱̩͍͉̝̯͚͔͖̲̦͓̗̻͎͚͎͔̘̗̫̜̩̤̗̙̦̦͕͎̥̬̟͇̭̟͈̹̝͓͙̯̲̲̭̜̠͔̣͕̝͖̮̼̮̦̹̳͚͈͇̹̻͔̰̺̤̹̟̹̩͚͖̬̠̹̯͖̜̲͈̰̩̦̫̜̝̫͎̹̱̮̘̝̘͍͍̭̅̾̈͒͆̉͐̓̅̈͆͒̓̂̈́͑͒̀̀͛͋̇̃̽̃̅̂̈́͑̒͊̓̾̃̐͊̆̐͆̓̅͛͒̀͑́͆̽̈͐̑̋̎̅͊͋̈͊̌̆͗̾̅̿̇̊̋̄̉͐̋̽́̿͒̒̌̇̿̓̈́͆͊̅̑̃̐̈́̿̃̉̔̃̊̓͐̽̇̈́̂̈́̏̔̿͐̇̂́̔̈́̐̈͊̏͗́̐̄̽̈́̄̐̀̏̒͗̆͌̈̂̒̈̔͛̒̒̏͒̑̓̍̈́͆͑̑̆͆̓̌̾͛̍̋̂̓̍̿̌̄͆̍̂̓̊̔̑͛̿̊̄̌͑̏͌̂̽̇͐̓͊̈̈́͌̈̔̈́͐̍̄͑͆̾͌͊̾̈́̒͌̑̿͑̉̇̓̈͑́̎̕̚͘̚̕̚̕̚̕̕̚͘̚̕̚̚̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅƯ̴̢̧̛̛͚̰̞̝̩̩̘͔͉͚̹̼̫̦͊̾͗͗̆͑͋̓̂̓͆̐͌̈́͆̄̾̈͐͗̄̆̀̈́͘͜ 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̶̢̢̢̧̡̨̢̡̧̨̢̢̢̢̧̨̡̛̳̲͍͖̥̼̯̼̮̱̩̥̱͉̥̣̺̺̣̲̙̥̻̪̠̘̠̥̼̟͍̤͎̩̬̣̬̠̹̩̫͔͉̲͓̠̯̼̱̥̖̺̠̭̺͓̖͖̗̹̥̩̤̺̠̭͙͇̻̘̭̦̞͙͕͈͔̬͖̫̞̙͍͇̜͍̥͔͖͇̘̬̳̫͇̰̼̙͎͙̜̤̬̰͕̻̻̭͎̬̮̺̙͕͕̩̤̦͓̩̪̜̼͍̭͔̪͉̦̟͉͇̹̳͕̹̬̺͈̗̺̻̯̰̺̩͍̺̮̭͚͓̮̜̯̦͉̱̬͎͖̞͉̞̪͖͎̥̝̮̳̼͔̱̺̘̣̼̹̮̣̖͚̠̜̱̱̜͉̺̙͍͚͚͍͈͌̎̏̔͑̍͐̒̊̐̈͊̃͌̐̇͑̾̈́͒͒̑̊̐͂͋̈́͗̄̇̇̒̾̑̉̓̽̑̀̈́́̿̎̈́̈́̉́̉̓̾̊͑̆͐̃͌͛̿͗̂̊̿́̈̒̒̆̅̀̊͐͌͊̃͑̄͐̐̆͌̿̔̋̑̄͛͂̆̚͘̚̚̕͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅ

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̷̧̨̧̢̡̛̫̩̲̼̗̺͓̦͙̝̭͙̦̦̺̰̮̭̟̺̳̦̦̝̣͚̖̺̖͔̩̟̞̲̘͎̞̖͚̻͎̣̺̫̣͙̗͚͍̣̲̲͖͐̽̊̆͛͑͌̑̇̊͂̽̐͌̂͑̓̒̈́͂̊̚̕͜͜͝ͅͅͅ

[̶̡̢̡̡̧̡̢̧̨̧̧̧̧̢̡̢̢̧̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̟̥̯̣͎̰̹͓͉̦͕̫̭̪̩̭̣̗͓̭͖̼̙̙̼̞̟̠̩̬̣̣̻̙̮̺͍̰̩͔̠͙̣̼͇̭͈̖̲̞̙̭̤͉̞̥̠̼̲̘͚̲̙͈͕̲̯̦͍̼̘̖̼̻̪̟̮̤̪̟̮͎͖̭͉͔̙͙͍͖̼̳̝̺̫̫̩̭͕͔̘̦͖̤̭̙̥̝̙͎̹͍̣̹͈̥̬̱̳̗̻͓͓̲̻̥̘̣͚͎̩̙̫̪͍̰̯̫̪̜̖̮͚͔̜̯͎̖̹̖͍̤̬͎̻̣̟̮̜̥͍͔̳͔͍̖̹̗̻̪͓͇̹͚̫̜̗͙͇̙͖̪͎̬̫͉̺̘͓̭̭̜̻̭̼̭͕̩̖̖͍̭̥͇̙̯̟̻̗͓̬͚̠̖͙̟͙̩̞̫̺̣͖͍̬̗͇̰̤͉̩̠̣͚̟̞̞͈̳̳̳̫͇̪̣̠̼̻̐͋͊́̏̿̿̎̂͛͗̒̏̊̇̓̔̓̏͌̅́̌͌͂̀̾̒́͒́͋̌̈́̿̔̈́̇̈̆̏͒̓̉͑̏͛̑̋̊̏͂̿̌̾̈́̐̾̈́̃̈́̑̓̅͒̉͐̈́̈̍̓̾̑̃͌͗̀͂̈́̑̈́̐̉͗̂̋́̃̇̀̄̈́̎̽͐̐͗̓̇̽͆̐̽̆̾̄̊̃̿̉̔͌̎̋̀̂̐͑̋̽̂͑͛̀̄͊̉̽͒̉͗͂͗̿̓̈́̀̿̈́͐̅̌̊̀̍̐͌̅̈̔̆͌̊͑͌͑̅̽̑̈́͆͆͆͑̿͌͌̎̓͛̈́̆͒͗̅̋͋͊̽͆̒̄̈̊̅̓͆̾͊̉̿̓̂̈̓̌͗̒̓̃͊͛͒̂͛̑̇̕̕̕̕͘͘̚̚͘̚̕͘͘̚̕̕͘͘̚̕̕͘̚̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅF̴̢̨̡̡̢̧̡̡̢̢̨̨̡̨̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̗͙̖̩̖̙͉̲̺̝͙͚̤̼͓̘̣͙̙̣̲̹̜̤͍͎͎̖͍͉̱̝̮̝̜͙̙͔̬͈̙̫̳̭̣͚̺̗͚͚̺͇̺͉͍̮̮̳̟̙̻̠̮͇͎̙̬͖̳̭̘̻͖͚͍͖̰̜̝͚͙̰͉̫̠̰̳͕̲̣̰̼̗̠̓̑̃̏͌̌͊̌́͊̆̎͑͂̀͗̃͒̄̈́͋̀̈́̈͑́͗́͑̎̌͑̓̎̈́̅̒͊͌̒͌͒̆̉͆̅̓͊̍̍̋̋̊͑͒̌̔̍̿̓̆͛̓̇̈́̀͋̔͆͒͌͆̔̇͊̑̄̇͊̏̔̔̍̽̈͒̀́̈́̆͒̄͑͆̓̋̈́̓̿́͋̊̀͆͗͑̾̋̋̑͐́̌͋̊͐̉̈́̈́͆̎̐͋̓̄͒̽́̌̑̉̓̈́̈̄͗͌̾̊̅͑̈́̾͑̿͛̓̆͆̍̑̽͒͘͘̕͘͘̕̚͘͘̕̚͘͘̚̚͜͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅƠ̴̢̧̡̢̢̨̢̨̡̨̢̡̧̧̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̻̯͚̮̤̞̫̟͇̭̘̗͓͇̞̳̗̮͎͙̝̩͉̻̬̬̮̱͔͈̫̪̖̮̦̠̖̥͔̼͔̯̼̳͙̭̤̗͚̥͎͕͇̦̺̹̙͙͚̗̭̮̩̩̦̜͓̲͈̹̫̗̫̻͇̖̮̣͕̱̼̘͖̣̱͉͓̮̜̜̜̗͕̤͍̘̙͉̜̯̟̲̮͈̮͔̼͇͖̳̱̬̘͇̜͕̣̬̙̤̻̣͇̥̝͕̹̟̼͎͇̠̟̙͋̽̉͊̂̈́̾̽̑́̉̃̄̄̾̒̿̓́̽̈́̎̔̌̀͛̊̑̓̉͒͊͋̿̍̒͊̊̂͑̆̄́̿̅̀̅̀͑̒̅̆̓̿̆̄͋̏̓͂̔̐̍̂͑̈̉̀͂͊͐̋̆̂̽̍̓͗͗͑͒͒̇̽̾͋̆͆̒̈́̇̋͆̈̏̿̎̂͆̄̍̓̊̍̂͊́̈̎̅̓͒͊̈́̑͒̏̈́̍̅̉̎͋̿͐̊̅̓̽̌͂̂͊͊͂̒̿̃͗͛̏̊̒͌̉̽̽̂̎͐̿͊̋̀̂̈̌̑̐̄̇̈́̐̂͊̐̇̈́̓́́͛͋̃͐͑̅̔͌̉͐̈́̋̈́̂̇̈̐̏̒̊̄̔̒̉͊́̌̉̔͆͗̕̚̕͘̕̚͘̕̕̕̕̚͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅÖ̸̧̧̢̢̡̡̧̡̨̨̧̢̧̢̡̡̧̟͖̼̝̼͍̼͚̟͈̬̥̳̱̞̺͍̞͖̞͇̫̜̩̮̪͙̖̖̟͓͇̺̘̰̮̣̻̗̣͖͇̗͇̟̫̺̗̳̦̺̟̤̠͖̝͈̣͔̬͙̫̯̘̭͈̱͕͍̳͕̫̱̮̳̬̳̣͉͖̺̗̥͕͖̱̟̥̻̟̲̣̟̮͖̙̤̙̟̜̻̗̗̫͙̪͈͉͖͇͖͍͉̞̫̼̝͍̺͍̣̳̣̭̖͙̜͓̦͎͔̺̳̮͈̙̯͍̹̙̟̱̗̱̭̼̪̗̜̯̪̻̖̹̞̪͕͙̙̞͇̦̫̩͈̮̖̘̪̺̙͙͙̱̖͇̲̹̼̺͓̞̱͎̦͈͕͍͖͉̺̼̞̠̲̟͚̹͔̗͇͎̲̺̯̝̜̣̰̰͚̗̱͈̯͎̣͈̝͕̠̰͇̰̮̼̗̦̠͔̼̼͖͒͌̿̄̀͂̈́̅̂͊̇̆̏̆̈́͗̑̓̑̒̇̆͌̓͂͊̽͋͐̽̄̏̍͛͘̕̚͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅĻ̷̧̢̧̡̧̢̛̛̛̦̖̬̙̜̠̹͈͖̤̥̱͍̦͎̼̳̼̦̣̹̳̰̲̦̝̯͈̗̪̪̭͕͙̝̝̻̻̭̝͔̰͓͕̗̳͈̦̫̩̱̤̪̦̺̜̙̦͍̯̞̩̟͍͇̼̗̞͇̥̬̣̜̠̬͎̺̟͔̥̠̗̖͔̽͛̿̍͆̔͂́͆͛̾̉̂̔̂̓̽̿̍͐̈̈́̊̄̍͑̍̑̑̈̑̾͊̄͒͋̈́͂̅͛̂͛̿̈͑̈́̏͒̈́̿͐̒̄̈̐̓̿͋̔̋̈́̈̓͌̏̾͑͗͆̎͊̋́̋͐́̊̃̔̋͐̉̉̽́͂̂̏̌̈́̉̿̐͌̒͋̄͌͂͗͆͂̂̃̊̆͒͑̿͛̀̍̄̒̾̉͌̈̋͋̾̄̏̾̾̍͛̿́͂̔̀̏͒̐̿̂̌̍̾̂͛̇͑̇̑̿͛̍͊̌͌͊͋̏͛̾̔̏̇̌̇̂́̽̄̇͊̃̔͒̊̒̓̐̓͐̽́̈͌̃́̔̈͑̓̕̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̚͘͘̕̚̚̕̚͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745063)

̴̡̧̢̢̡̢̡̧̡̨̡̢̛̛̛̛̼̳͍̩̥̲̰̼̟͓̥̖̲̙̯̬͙̱͍̩̫̦͔͇̪̘̥̜̣͖̪͍̙̠̱͕̟̜̣̩͎̜͍̮̠̭̭̝͔͈͕͖̼̥̰̣̺̫̲̝͍͖̜̖̬͕͙̬͍͉̲̝͕̟̖̦̭̹͉̗̩̺̤̹͖̬̞̩͇͚̝͓̼͎̦̩̝͔̦͓̙̦̲͖̺̳̝͈̠͍̩͍͍̥̦̝͖͎̖̲͇͚͚͕̪̥̳͛͊̈́͒͒͗̇͊̓̽̑͂̽̅̎͑͗̉͐̄̄̇̉̉̋̊̈́́̔̊͆͗̌͂̎̅̈̿̒̈́̅̓̏̂̒̃̔͌̅͊̂̋̋̌͒̔͋̑́̾̌͑̏͗̾͌̚̕͘͘͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅ

̶̧̧̡̡̧̧̢̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̰̦̞̮̣̥̦̥̰͚̤͙̘̫̝̼̗̟̟͙͍̤͍̗͚͚̭͉̲̗̱̝̖͎̩̳̝̙͉͎̻̠͈̳͕̘̗͇͇̲̮̯̜͓͔̫͖̪̲̣̱̿̓͗̈̊̃͒́̑̉͛̈́͗̃͊̃̾͒̽̍͛͊̋̊͊̑͗̍̑̍̊̅̂̃̃̔̋̈́̃̋͆͆͐́͑̃̈́̔̍̂̑̄̈̓̐̈̃̒͋̿̿̋̈́̄̊̐̍̋͑͂͗̊͑̏̐͒̐̈́̓̽͛̋͑͒͐̓͐͋͑͛͂͗̽́̈́̀̈̓̾̉̅̐̎̂̌̅̿͛͊̿̅̒̂̐̌̔̈́͗̇́̈̂͊̇͒̅̀̓̆͋̀̋̃̍̄̈́̎̎̄̍̊̓̊̌̌̔̃̈́͛̈̐̌̔͂̉̒̾̄̓̀̀͆̿̋̊̍̑̈́̽̌͐̚̚͘̕̚͘͘͘̚̚̚̕͘͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅF̶̧̧̡̧̡̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̬̠͖̯̬̱̳͉̜͙̥̹̭̦̼͓͓̹̟̖͕̘͉̜̺͉͚͈̪̭̳̲͖̫͓̮̙͙̙̠͉̖̰̤͍̺͍͕̯̹̮̭͉̬͖̥̳͔̤̻̤̹̮͇̞̞̹͈̜̳͓̞̗͖̟̑̄̀̍̈́̾͊͗̆̏̅̾͗̈́͒̏̓͛͐̓͌̅̀̿͒̽̆̓̎͌͊̆͂̀̏̓͛̋̓̅͆̒͋͊̈̆̿̀̊̈͌͆̿͑̔̉̏̍̒͒̉̒̌̒́͗͌̍̉̉͗̎́̂͂̇̾͆͛̓̾̂̌̇͑̊̆̌̍́̓͗̔̓̐̓̐͒̐̈́̄̈́͛̋̍͗̈̾̌͊̽̂͒̔̃̈̓̎́́͒̉̄̽̾̾͑̍̄̉̇̐̒̿̾͌̈́̿͗͊̄́͆̆̂̅̓͆͒̇͗̽́̿̃̇̊̆̔̊́͌̌̿͂͋̍̌͋̓́̌̄͊̉͆͆̔́̈̅͐͑́̋̽̈̈̈́̿̓̓̌̅̐̆̔̐͑͛̆̊̑̍̄̓͒̏̈́́́͗̄̋̎͛̊͋̌̕͘̕̕̕̚͘͘̚̚̕͘̚͘̚͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅƠ̵̢̧̧̧̨̧̢̨̨̡̢̢̨̛̛̛͈͈̬͙͕̙̣̥̦̞̰̭̥̭̜̜̳̮̣̲͈̟̣͈̣̱̜̮̫̙̼̫̟̝͕͉͕̭̼̭̺̪̲̱͍̻͈̤̺̦͓̳͙͉͙͍̩̭̘̖̠͓̳͔̙̻͉̭̟̯̖̦̫̠̙̫̭͎̪̺̗͉͎̟̹̗͙͔͕̘̲͇͍͔̺͖̲̱̺͍͇̻̼̘̭͎̲̝͎͙̟̭̱̯̣͚̦͖̯̥͙̩̝̣̩̩͚͙̞̻̪͍̻͖̯͔̫̼͖̣̰̬̟̬͇̳̺̬̈̂̍̄̃̌͆̉̔͆̽̆̏̿̈́́͗͊̋̇̒͗͊̅̄̒͒̽̓͗̉̐̋͌̀͑͒̾̈̽̓͛͗͐̌͐̅͗̾̋͗̔̈́̎̋̉͌͊̎̏̐͗̇̾̀̊̓͑̌̿͊̏͊͑͒͂̈́̅̾͂̾̊̀̌̽͆̐͋͂͊̚̚̕͘̕͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅƠ̴̡̧̨̧̢̧̡̡̢̡̡̡̡̧̧̢̢̡̨̡̧̨̧̧̡̡̢̧̛̥̺̦͔̤̭̬͚͚̠̩̜͍̖̟̖̪͕͇͍̖͙̲̭̙̦͚̳̫̜̲͎̖̮̪͇̮̗̤̘̱̗̘͍̯̦̺̞̱̳̣͔̩̟̝͈̮̩̩͉̖̙̮̤̖̰̞̙̙̲̜̪͎̭̝̭̥̙̠̗͈͎̭̠̠̮̲̣͉̺̟̝̞͎̟̰̣̝̭̼̞̺͖̣̪̦̺͍̤͉͔̦̪̱̼̥̫̘̰̩̹̼̣̱̫̻̼̰͓̥̣̳̭͕̰̻̫̹̼̞̞̻̥̺̭̟͓̫̼̺̦̣̲̘͍̥̞̖̹̟̘͕̗̣̭̹̹͖͕̪̤͕͈͕̞̪̙̗̙̰̝̯̻̞̦̬̥̙̜̺̯̯͓̫͖̝̳͇̐̌͑͋̂̔̔̊̾͂͋͑̇͒̔͂̑̀̀̑̆͐̒̓̎͆͒̃̄̉̏̄̇͆̿͒̄̓͐̐́͊̔̄͆͗̍̀̊̏̇͋̄̏̍̓̓͊̐͂̂͐͂̉̆̓͒̄̇̐̒̊̑̉̇̏̂͌̅̕̕̕̚͘̕̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅL̸̛̛̛͖̒̍̎̃͒̈́̇̒́̓̋̎͂̀͐̿̐͋̆̇̂͛͑͑̀̉̊̓̉̈́̎͌̀͛̈́̈̂̍̀̏̂̎͗͂̍̿̍̄̐͌͑̐̎̐͑̉͌͛̋̍̔̓̄̊͛̏͒̃͐͆͒̄̆̈́̌̉͐̍̌̔̈́̾̍̊͑̿̎̎̋̈͌̚̕͘̚͝͠͝͠͝͝͝

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̸̧̡̨̡̨̧̨̡̨̢̨̢̡̢̡̨̡̢̧̡̧̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̱̳̜̬͓͈͓̯͖̬̺̝͙̲̺̹͓̥̟̯̞͇̤̘̰̺̣̞̪̹͚̫̠͔̖͙͉̫̮̻̗͎̯̲̼͖͍͔͔̳͍̼̰̹̞͉̠͙͎̪̠͓̻̜̹̘͇̯̗̦̠̜͔̳̲͎̪͓̗̗̬̲̪͎̥̥̺̙̯̝̟̹̦̥͇͍̺̫̳̯͈̺̘̖̩̬̞̩̲͙̱̣̘̺̟̤̥͉̮̰̺̭͕̞̱͇̦͍̺̺̥̯̺̬͈̹̩͉́͑̓̒̓͂͑̇͒̈̈̇͌́̏̾̿͗̆̑̆̉̀͊̃̄͒̔̈̋̃̂̂͒̎̈̎̓̓̂̔̈́̏̔̂͐̃̀̒̈́͒̃̽͋͆͐̃̂̌̈͑̏̎̀̒̓̍͆̍̑̊̿̓͆͛̈́̾̌̓͊̌̊̏̔͊̑̎̿̓͗̊͂̒̔̏̂̈̊͂̐̊͐̈́̋̓͛͊̊̆͌̉͆̏̍̈̾͗̇̀̾̓͊͛̈͒̒̑͒͊̋̑̈́̃̇̄͛̊̂̎̿̇̇́͋̆͐̐̑͂̏͘̚͘͘͘̕͘̚̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅF̸̧̡̢̧̨̡̨̨̡̢̢̡̧̧̢̢̛̛̛͇̲̩͍̲̙͉̤̣̣̠̗̭̜̗̗̠͍̜͈͉͍̭̮̰̭͙̟̟͍̙͕͎̲̥̥̻͓̰͎̳̰͇̯͈̜̗̦̞̺͕͎̳͔͚̭͙͎͇̦̤̺̲͙͍̗̫̩̜͚̦̯͇̬̼̼͇̗͍͇̯͖̼͚̦͓͙͖̮̥̼̯̹̤̩̫̗̪͉̤̻̫͖͚͍͉̪̹̟̪̹̱̭͕̱͓̬͖̩͖͍̪̠͙͚̙͚͓̳͖͔̝̜̺͇̞̩̼̘̩̲͚̤̞̦̬͉̲̜̩̹̰̮̖̣̣̟̞̘͕̐͑́̑͌͑̄̇̑̆̈͐̉͌̈́͂̇̈́̈́̅͐̈́͑̑̇͌͒̉̉̅̄̆̔̑̐̐͌̐̋̉̎̅͊̉̒̽͒̋̽̿̅̎̅̿͒͐̔̈́̽́͆̊̀́̉̈̏̇̽͗͊̂̽̓̄̿͛̔͌̃̓̏͛͊̀͊͗̎͐̎̂̾̈́̾̓̐̀̍̑̀͐͋̎̎̓̊̓͌͂̈́̀̃̈́̽̇̃̔̾̈́̌̿̐͋̾̓̑̐̃̃̍̏͗̏͂̆̏̿͗̀͂̏̂͗̇̈̔̔̽̒̅͗͛̎̂͂͒͒̐͋̉͊̔̍͑̏̈́̓̑̓̌̍̀̐̎͛͌̆͛̎̾̔̾̾͊̑̿̈́̓̇̉͑̊̓͂̇͋͆̉̌̓͌́̇͆̔̿̓̾͆̀̄͋̒̈́̒͐̋̽̅̄̏̇̑̈̄̄̃̃̔̚͘̚̕̕̕̚̕͘̕̚̕͘̕̕̕̚͘͘͜͜͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅǪ̷̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̻͇̪̹̯̟͍͖̹̥̪̜̯̥͚̤̜͎͓̰̜̬̼͈̮̱̺̩̹̣̬̰̻̯͚̰͙͔̟̩͎͉̥͈̣͒̄̍̐̊̄̇̌͑̔̈́̎̄̒̓͛̀̃͛̉̿͛͂̄͐͋̀͒̿̓̔̆̓̿̓̓̾̎̈́̽̃̿̔̈́̄̊̊̇̔͑̂̅̌̓̍̔̈͊̓̍̂̃͒̑̇̾͗̈́͛͗̑͗̿̌͐͒͑͆̊̃̿̇̈́̆̈́͆͛̽̅͆͑̑̂͑̋̑͛͋́̄̋̊̐͌͂̓͆̏̌͑͗͋͐͊̎̊̋̀͋̔̈̈́̎̐̌̏͒̏͊͛̓̑͆͂̓̽̍͌͋͐̈̈́͆̔̄̾͐͂̏̓͂̈́̋́̽̈́̓̈̊̆̄̃̌̔̓͂̔̀͆̀̑̔̇͒̅̎́̄̍̂͋̍̑͂͘̕̕̚͘̕̚̚̕̕͘͘͘̚̚̕̕̚͘̕̕̚͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝Ơ̵̧̡̨̧̢̨̧̡̢̢̧̨̢̡̢̨̨̢̢̢̤̲̱͚̻̰̬̯̠̦̞̜͓̭̣̩̳̝̰͈̹̪̱̯̻͍͍͉͖͖̜̘̬̣̖̫͕̙̥̗̝͎͔̖͈͚̝̤̯͓͈̝̲̖̰͍̠̩͍̲̟̗͖͖̣͍͓̼̗̞̦̰̣̬̥̥̗̠̮̩̯̟̞̯̠̯̼̪̭̳̪̩̟͍̪̫̱̤̻̬͙̲̺̯̹̻͖͓͍͙̝͍̥͔̮̤͖̹̖̗̞̹̬͖̠̠̘͉̭̞̣̰̯̯̯̩̖̜̭̯͉̫̰̮̹͖̥̤̥̬̻̰̗̫̯̳̫̯̱̣͕̪̦͚̟͉͔͔̫̫͖̣̘̤͙͔͍̰̙͖̥͚̤̰̦̂͐͌̌͐͋̈́̐̓͗̃͗͊̽͐̈́̌̃̓̈͐̈́͋̃̎̆̄̎̿̀͗͋͆͗̉͑̕̕̚̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅĻ̵̧̡̢̢̨̢̨̧̨̧̧̧̡̛͓̬͓͇̗̥̰̭̳̦̝̻̮̗̘̳̬̜̪̮̲̱̼̘̙̠͉̭̠̬̫̞̩̫̻̹̫̘͍͖̳̳̠͇͚̠̜͚̘͉̠̱͇͍̮͚͎̰̫̜͔͍̟̺̤͓̻̪̘̰̞̣̫͔̝͈̟͈̖̫͇̣̜̭̮̱͉̣̠̠̬͕̩̖̙̥͖̮̭̭̙͙̺̻͋͋̈́̈́̌͗̈́͑͒̄͛͊͆̈̐̇̍̾͑̎͊̈͋̒̐̾͒̃̈́͗͌̂̏͛̎̈́̆͒̄̀̒̍̇͛͊̍̏̓̅̍̅̍̈͆͊̄̆͆̐͘̕̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͠ͅ

̷̧̡̢̢̧̢̡̨̡̧̧̧̡̨̡̢̧̡̢̡̡̨̛̛̛̛̛̖̤̻̻̬̥̰͙̪̦̥̦̫̝̻̪̗̬̗̺̹̬̲͙̥̜̞̠̤̥͍̖̦̠͍͍͎̥̩͕̗̖͎̱̖͍̫̯͓̣̻̼̼̖͎̱̪̯͍̣̦̘̙͔̮̘͓̲̺͓͙̯̦͔̤͚̪̥̞̤͔̲͇͉̣͍̻̲̤̬͔̭͙̯̟̙̻̬̩̱̬̣̭̙͙͚̳̳̰̥̩͚̟̩͙̳̺̭̖̙̖̖̻̦͕̟͙͔̱̥̰̥̭̜̱̼͇̫̠̝̻͚̜̝̻͇̰̝̦̗̙͍͙̯͖̻̤͚͕̫͔̺̭̦͇͈͕̠͈̠̘̰̹̩̟̥̩̹̟̱̼̄͒̏͂̇̅̿̇̈͒̽̊̄̃̃̈́̾̾̇̅͒̊̓͌̋̿͊̀̋̓̾̈́̃̏͑͒͑͛̂͂̕͘̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅF̶̧̨̨̨̧̢̢̡̨̢̧̢̢̨̡̧̧̡̢̨̛̛̛̛̛̛͎͓̜̙͓͉̞͚̦̳̘̣̫̘̥͍͚̰͇̗̯͓̣̩̻̖͈̖͍̣̩̲͙͓̪̲̰̣̻̩̩̜̠̲̯̫̤̞͙͍̝̺̮͉̳̗̮̱̱̣̜̖̗̳̦͙͕̬̫̬͉̖̹̼̪̦̤̱͉̟̯̳̼͍̫̮̣̗͈̳͍̺̪̳͕͕̜͉̰̥̱͚̳̮̫̭̪̪̥̤̘̼̰͚͍̝̹̰̯̜̤͕̥͇̹̤̥̱̲͚̠̹̙͙̩̤̥̠͍̱̰̥̗̲̗͍̦̭͎̫͉̺̲̬̹͖̖̲̲̺̯̜̼̻͖̙̟̤̝̦̩̖͉͑͂̓̿̾̂̊̄̌͗̇̅̐͒̑̓̈́̓̉̑͆̒̓̓̓̄̇̄͗̾͐̒̑̃̃̄̋͒͐̐͌̃̏̈́̑́̈̾͊̂̒̽͒́̉̈͌̐̊̅̂́̆͌͊̈̇̏̽͆̾̈́̂̔͊͊̿͗̔̒̅̄̃͑̓̅̈́̂͑̿̈́̄̓̒̐́̎̈͊̽͑͑̓̋̀̓̐͛̈́͗̒̅̈́͆͆͋̊͑̓͐͋̄͒͗̂̿͐͊̑̑̆͑̐͌̑͂̊̋̋͋̉͋͗̋̊̍͌̽̀̂̈́͗̓̑̉̓̉̄̎̽̎̽̅̕̚͘͘͘̕͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅỚ̵̢̧̧̧̧̧̧̡̢̧̡̧̨̨̨̨̨̢̧̢̨̡̢̧̨̢̢̧̡̛̩͔̲̗̣̼̤̭̥̮͈̱͉̪̮̜͙̼̬̤̫̝͚͓̞̝̭͈̬͈̪͖̙̞͚̠̗̹̙͕̩̗͓͇̟͉͙̳̭͇̖̞̼̘̻̝̲̞̮͎̺̖͔̪̜͈̟͍̮̟̲̞̟̝̣͚̘̻̮͈̗͓͖͙͎̹͚̗̬͕̣̩̦̤̯̩̯̘̫̬̳̪̜̦̘̻͓͎̦̦̘̝̦̙̙̱̩̺͖̯̹̮͙̳͔͍̺̺̼̘̰͓̩̱̺͕͔̲̬̞̹̙̦̭̝͖͕̘͙̣̙̦͉̥̖̬̪̹̙̺͈̰̱̦̼͖̣̯̳̰̳͓̣͖̖͍̜̖͎͕̭̲̘̰̥͇̗̩̤̰͔͕͕͚͎̘̞̬͍̙̥̳̠̘̥̥̜͉͕̜̙̝̬̲̬̰͉͋̅̑̏̇͊̏́͐̾̓̈̔̐̿̾̒͐̾̇͂̂̋̉̊͋̔͗̈́͛̓̂̇̋̊̒̑̓̾̌͌̇̃̅̏̈́̈́͛̂̄̊̌̉̇̓̓̑̈́̿͋́̍̈̃̄̆̉̀͒̊̑̽̇̉̿͒̃̔̒̍͒͊̇̅̿̆̒̔̓̔͗͋̐͑̍͆͊̆͐͐̋̌͐͛́̈͒͑̋̿̽̎̍͛̆̄̔̉͌͆̑̂̒̿̆̇̿͑̓͋̅̒͐̔̅̐̄̄̍̇̓̉̈͛̈͐͑̊͘͘̕̕͘̚͘͘̕̚̚̚̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅO̶̢̡̡̧̨̢̨̨̡̧̢͓̙̞̪̣͈̺̰̘̬͎̬̦̦͍̥̜͙̣̭̫͎̰̪̪̖̟̖͉̞̱̰̩̥͍̖̘̟̙͙͉͈̱̪̫̥̝̤͕̘̲͍͚̯̜̺̤͎̖͙̠̮̦̹̫͖͍̝̠̣̤̘̺̝̮̲͓̼̖͉͎͓͑̂̊̈́̍̊̇̚͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅĽ̴̨̨̨̢̨̡̧̨̧̨̡̡̡̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͖̲̘̭͖̤͖͍̻̮̟̣͎͉̮̜̥̳̼̻̳̟͔̱̪͍̗͓̭̩͎͚̳͈̳͎͔̝̳̘͔͇̱̘͇͙̠͈͓͓̖͙̙̯̪̣̙̙͙̩̟̰͇̫̠̪͓̘͙̮͔̪̬͙̝͕̠͍͖̳̠̩̝̪̦̥͚̗͔̳̠̰̙̰̥̤̥͕̪̜̺̝͔͕̠͔͇̪̞̤͇͈̦̥̫̟͍̣͍̥̦̗̣̙̙̻͓̙̆͊̓̿̈́́͗̊̈̊͑̉̾̌̐̆͗̔̈̓̃̇̄̾̆̆̎̀̋̐͌͌͆͑̈́̃̈͐̒͑̏̋͐́͒̉́̅͑̆͂͂̽̽̏͆͑̒̇͗͆̔̉̌̊̒͊̈̂̌̒͊͗͒̅̓̑̈́̍̈͋͐̈́͋̾͛̆͗̄͆̃̅̌̓̉́͊̀̏̎́͆̆̈́̊̿͋̂͑̏̌̄̓̋͑̏̿̈͆̒̄͌͐̌̽̓̃̈́͒̿̄̌͆͑̌̀̏̋͗͑̓̇̋̉͐͛̔͂͊̔̂̏̉͘̕̕̚̕͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅ

̷̡̧̢̡̡̡̡̢̧̡̧̡̧̨̧̨̡̡̡̢̨̢̧̨̛̛̛͙͎̜̝͙̲̟̳̯͈͓̯̫͕͓͖̮̰̝̗̭̯͖̣͈̩̪͖̭͔̬͙̪̪̝͙͖͍͕̫̘̲̗͉̩̥̱̻̻͔͚̤̹͚̻̳̭̬͙͈̜̞̦̦̲͉͕̰͇̹̺̬̭̺͍̱͉̝̻̺̗͙͖̥͓̙̱̯̱͓̠̪̼̳̙̥͇̝̼͙̭̼̻̣̩͓͎̠͉͚̙̼̙̦̩̝̳͚̳̱̹̲̦̦̞̯͎̙̠̹̝͕̮̮̪̖͔͓̯͓̮̖̥̳̰̬̦͓̙̗̜̭̻̩̠̘͙̗̻̥̫̼͌͊̂̾̐͊̾͊͑̉̓͌͒̓͊̂͆̊̽̀̾͗͌̉̅̈́̏̏̀̅̈͆̌͑̔̋̊̅̏̿̆̑͑̔̑̎̔̇̃̐̎̊̈͂̽͌̊̓̋̇̈́́͂̈͑̃͋̈́̆̃̄̾͊̇̉̀̊̌̉̑͋̇̂͛̾͒̌͛̔͛͘̕͘̚̚͘̚̚̕͜͜͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ

̷̢̢̡̨̨̡̡̢̧̨̨̢̢̡̛̘̦͚͙̺͈̟͕͉̺͎͚̣͇̗̼̘̻͎̲̹͖͕̼̬͕̰̰̠͓͇͕͕̪̦̩̭̰̬̘̯̼̲͇͎̟̬̱͚̖̳͖̳͇̖̻͉̞̫͕͕̳̖̦̱͔̟̤̹̙̘̭͎̫͍͍͎̥̞̰̦̠̝͈̹̞̹̯͈̗͎̥̘̝̜̣͇̘̤͕̼̜̫͎̞̼̬̬̥̦̮̟͖̬͍̳̬̹̞̼͙̘͚͎̜̖̩͕͕͔̰̘͈̪̦͍͓̥͖̙͔̦͔͍̜̲̠͇̦͈̺̻̤̠͚̫̓̄̎̐̎͒̾̈͐̈̄̂͘͜ͅͅY̸̡̡̧̨̧̢̨̨̡̡̧̧̨̢̨̡̨̧̨̧̧̢̨̧̢̡̡̨̨̨̢̧̨̛̛̼̭͚͍̮̠̠̯̘̜̮̮̙̜̲͍͓̹̭͍͚̜̲͈͎̗̮̜̣̬̭̳͖͖̟͚͉͖͎͖̩̤͚̪̼͙̮͉̺͓͉͖̘̠͚͎͔̺̹̻̮͙̟̠͖̘̫͎̭̦͇̯̻̪͓̲̠̣͖̝̠̺̜̼̣̫̙̜̞̤̙͇̘͚̩͍̩̥̲͙̲͇͓̫̝̮͔̪̩͓̞̯̣͚̹͓̟͓̻̞͔̥̩͙͉̞͕̱̜̠̗̣͍̟̘̝͓̫̳̳̱͉̘͚͕̝̜͇̣̟̩͎̝̝͚̣͕̼͖͈̺͈͉̟̠̖̝̦̞͕̼͎̻̩̜̭̺̣̣̭̻̥̘̖͗͋̎̏̓̆́̀̆̍̊̎͆̉̓̈́̉͌́͌͌̋̎̍̈̌͑̂̌̌̓̑́͊̊̿͆͗͊̇̃̇̓̆͋̈̃̃̿͗̅̓͆͊̈́͐͑͑̏͑̍͒̾͐̂̄̐̈́̑̓̒̈́̎̑̍̍̐̃͛̊̍̓̏͆͌́̄͌͌͊̾͛̒̅̊̉͂̎͐̐̒͂̈̄̀̿͒̄̈́̄̋̈̄̔̐̇̿̔̓͑̈̈́̔̈́̏̒̃̊̑̐̐̎͛̉̑̿̌͆̎͂͘̕͘̕͘̕͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅǪ̴̢̨̨̡̡̨̧̧̡̧̡̡̡̢̛̛̛͖̬͚̯̬̤̺͔̤͈̜̮̥͈̭̰̺̗̬̼̦͎̘͖̙̯̫̻̥̠͔͕̻̟̱̱̭̗̯̻͇̥̬͕̞͔͇̝͖̲͎͈͉̮̬̼̦̼̮̬̖̬͍͎̰̥͖̹͔̪̹̙̹̦̲̜̯͙̺̳̳͔̹̣̲͎̱̺̬̯̥̦̻͎̝̞̳̣̫̻̬̤̟̣͔̦͚̦̼̪̜̪̜̹̰̗̯̥̪͔̗̯͆͌̈́̏̽̊͑͌̉̄̋̃͆̔͂̈͂̏̇̐̏̍͒̆̓͗̔̇͑̒͐̾͌͑̅͋̽̽͑͆̿̑̋̂̄͋́͊̎͒̍̈́͊͗̌͑̂̀͒̋̽͂͘̕̕̕̚̚̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅŲ̵̢̨̨̨̢̡̨̛̛̛̛͎̬̩͚̣͓͖̫̳̣͎̤͎̖̮̝̼̫͙̗̞͎̮͎̝̱̖̼̱͖͓̞̦͉͍͍͙͎͚͔͔̪̱̦̠̰̬͇̫̞̭̣͈̯̖͕̹̠͕̤̓̋̒̊̈́͒̌̑͆̎͋̄̔̅̇̒̓̓̍͆͗̇̅̾̋͐̄̇͑̐̀̏̈̔͐͌̉̓̀̐͒͐̊̾͒̆̍͐͋̒̐̐̋͋͌͒͂̈͐͋͗͑̃̇̌̈̿̎̋̀̊̓̓̈́̔̈̏̒̉̇̄͑̌̄̏̈́̃̿̀̉͐̒͛̇͑͌̾̂̊͌̆̿̍̓͆͊̓̽̆̊̽͐̾̐̎̏̍̓̈́̆̈́̃̈̆̅̌̉̈͑̄̋͑́̎̄̽̓́͘̕̚̚͘͘͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ 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̶̢̨̡̡̢̨̢̢̢̢̨̧̢̡̡̧̢̡̧̢̧̢̛̙̖̟̩̥̩͕̦͕̼͖͍̻̤̝̪̹̰͈̖͍̱͔̣̪̖͔̮̖̮͕̤̣̭̪̪̻͕͕̣̞̼͖̮̭̜̟̞̟̣͓͈̹͎͖͕͈̱̬̟̠̖̮̱͕̯͓̼̺̩̜͇̪̗̱̮̦̟̩̹̹̜̝̤͔͈̳̮̝͍͔͉̹̹͓͖̝̞̱̹͙͓͔͉̮͚̜͇̣͚͈̣̼̦̘̪͎̭̹̺̪͈̪̥̫̥̞̪̣͚̺͔̪̹̻͈̖̝̤͍̩̟͔͍̩̖̳̞̳̼͎̬̭̲̟̰̫̲̤̝̦̯̿͋̾̑̂͊̿͌̈́͐̐͂͂̂̑̽͌̌̒̌̇̇̌̉̊̒̅̈́̂̀̔̐̅͒̽̃͘̕̚̚͜͜͜͠ͅ

̶̨̨̨̧̢̧̛̛̛͖̖̤̮̼̳͔̫̠̥̮̦̻̮͇͎̮̣̙̱̞͎̦̰͙̤͓͓̻̭̭̲̠̣̞͉͖̤̜̦̦̝͉͙̱̭͕̯̪͍͎̖̯͈̞͇͕̻͇͔͎͇̣̘͍̯͈̬̮̙̉̏̽̈͌̊̐̂͊̉͆̽͊̂̓͗̉͌̐͆̊̇̊͑̓̐͒͛͒͂͆̅͆͋͌̈́͒̅̓͆͛̊͋̔́͌̍̋̂̔̑̍͆͗͋̾̾̏̄̎̎͆̓̂́͑̈́̐̀̔̈́̍̀͊̌̋̅̒̌͗̍͋̊̎͐̾̽͊̄͗̐̃̒̅̊̋̐̒̈́̈̎͐͒͒͂̀̿̏̿̽̃̿͛̒̍̄͑̐̾̄̄̏͗̑̃̃̆̆̈̆̾͑͑̌̿͌͂̿́̉̀̇̆̌̑̐͆͋̆̅́̄̓̆̑͑͘̕̚̕̕̕͘͘͘̚͘̚͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅȚ̴̡̡̡̡̡̧̢̡̢̢̡̢̡̢̨̡̨̧̧̨̧̡̡̡̛̛̭̞̰̣̱̼̗̬̹͙̮̝͖̭̤̱̬̤̟̬̜̼͚͎̺͔͉̱͇̟̣͇̫̤̰̜̻̪̰̱͍̜̜̠̜̗̟̜̙̲̰̺͕̘̙͓̺̹̪̠͔̰̞̘͔͕̘̲͕̘͖̼͇̤͉̰̙̙̺̰͇̰̮̖͙̤̤̪̜̩͈̘̭͎̱͓̥̫̞̞̟̠͔͎̪̩͔̭͖̩͍͇̙͚̥̺͔̟̯̦̥͖̱̩̦̜̞͕̫̝̪̖̖̲̬̗͉̣̺̘̦̺̖̜̬̣̳̯͔͈̗͓̻̻͇͍͕̲̩̬͙̰̦̹͍̠̣͓̺̥̮̤̺̮̟͖̼͎͓͈̘̬̫͖̣͚̰͔͙̝̮̗͔͓̠̦͕̪͇̺̮̩̜̙̩̗̩̣̻̥̝̳̯̯͔̖̖̠̠̫̱̫̲̠̺̠͔̬͓͓̥̯͇̼̥͎̪͓̻͒̀͆̌̂̌̇̾͒̓͌̀͗̿̓͌̓̂͐̅̋̈́̈́̎̋̇̍̒̏͊̓͗͌̊̐̆̐̓̏̉̇̾̌͆̅͗̐̋̒̇̃̈̿͗̀̓̂͊̄̔͑͌̈̄͒̚̕̕͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅH̴̡̨̢̨̡̨̡̡̛͖͉̤̲̭̘̤̫͎̞̘̜̟̗̜̬͔̙̻̗͙̠̙̱̹͓̭̫̞̙̹̘̠̙̣̭̼̮͓͖̰̝̰̪̞̪͕̳̭͓̠͚̗͔͖̣̙͙̺͎͔̤̳̟̗̳̹̜̰̜̝̠͎͎̠̘͙͚̦̻̬̭̣̥͕͎͙͇̫͉̥͚̩͓͈͙̖͎̲̝̖̻̥̘̳͍̘͍̠͙̙̝̟̭̙̥̳̦̪͖̻̻̩̱̠͙̭̮̺̖̤̬̹̲̣̭̾̂̎̇̋̈́̌̏̍̒̒̅̆̏͂̈́͛́̂̾̈̔̒͒͑̍̊͊̿͐̓̉̅͗̉̏̓͋̆̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅÍ̸̧̡̡̧̡̨̡̢̢̨̧̢̧̨̢̢̨̧̧̡̢̨̨̢̢̨̛̛̛̛̭̰̗̪͎̯̯̜̪̠͇̪͎̩̱͇̻̟̭͕̗̩͔̣̭̮̰̠̲̣̙̖̟̺̰̠̻̫̹̝̳̻͔̦͔̠͚̘̦̝͖͔̯̳̼̞̹̻͉̱̼͕̝̫̖̬̗̬̠̥̩̲̣̖̥͈͉̭͖̜̜̖̼͉͙͈̬̻͓̩̝̼̯͔̪̖̱͇̺̙̝̗̥̺͚͖̫̠̤̤̭̭̺͙͖̞̯̘̯̱̳͇̱̲͚͙̥̥̞͙̺̖̙̫̪̮̲̝̰̦͍̩̠̤̞̺̰̬̣̦̜͈͈̺̬̳̜̱̮̖̖̝̩̫̹̝̖̘͙͔̖̟̩̫̯̞͕̦̖̟͚͉͍̫͉͇̹̩̹͓̟͓͎͔̰̬̖͚̟̣̰̼̥̩̜̱̺̊̒̊̊͗͛̅̋̌̋̽̿̍̈́͐̐̅̏̐̏̈́̃̆̈͑̇̌̆̋͗̆̈́͒͑̈́̃͑͋̊̎̂̃̀̄̔͑̒͊̆̋̄̂͌͒̊͑̑̉͌͂̀̈́̓̍̔̄̐͆̃̓͊͒̈̔̈̇̀̏̂͑͋̏̅̓̎̀̀̍̓͆̊̈́̊͑́̂̐͆͑̽̿̑̔͊͐̒̅̊̒̾̌̄͂̒̌̑̃͌̂͗̃̾̅͐́̽̂̊̆͌̾̍̈͊̎͑̌͒̅̋͛̆͐̃̚͘͘͘͘͘͘͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͠͠͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅŠ̸̨̧̨̧̧̢̧̡̡̧̡̡̧̡̧̡̢̨̨̨̧̢̧̨̧̧̢̨̧̧̛̛̛̼̮͖̗̻̺͙̝͕̜̮̠͎̣͙̮̤̠̼̳̗̘͈͚͔̩̭̥̖̣̱̳̹̹̗̩̖͍̲͎̤̪̘̙͓̰̮̳̝̗̹̺̻̺̼̮̪̤̯͈̹̦̞̠̭͔̹͚̖͍̫̜̪̲̖̹͎͍͍̪̺̲̩̜̭̫̗̺͓̞̫̰̹̺̪̪̪̥̠̹̼̤̣͙̗̞̱͖̭̩̙͉̟͓͚̼̲̘͙̱̠̼͙͇̮̳̟͎̺̱̻̯̖͙̙̱͕̻̥̬̻̖̣̙̠̭̜̟̲̭̹̖͓̫̺̟̰̝͉̥͈̬͔̣̝͍͕̺̰̼̠̣̲͚̣̝͇̺̮͇̘͖̼͓̹̰͉̲̞͖̲̥̰̘͓̦̮̲̙͍̟͎̗͉̭̖̘̤͖̘̰͍͇̟͇͉͓̬̘̱̫̦͖̫̤̩̤͈̘͙̤̼̣̯̲̳̩̺̱̹̝͎͙̘̻͖̩͖̮̄̽̐̏̾̄͛͊̍̅̽̃̊̈̾̓͗̋̾̈́̈́͒̈́̈́͒̄̄̀̃͑̅̉̀͛́̏͐͊̓̈́̂̇̌̄͑͌̅̓͋͗̆̿́̅̓͑͗̾̊̊̏̎̃̑̐̄͛̐̈́̐͋̔̓̋̽̋̓̔̎͐̈̈́̄̉͗̅͆̄̀̂͂̃̃̾̔̀̈́͋̾͛̔͐̌̓͊͊̋̽̓̄̽̋͊͂̎͛̋͑̒͛̉͗͐̈́̀̒̔͒̃̂͒̇̈́͐͛̏̇͊̄͊̓̒̌̍͆͒͒̈́̓̆̍͗͌̕̚͘̚̚̚͘͘̚̚̕̕͘̕̚̚̕̚͘͘͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅ ̶̡̡̨̧̨̢̨̧̢̧̧̡̡̧̧̧̡̡̨̢̢̨̨̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̠̭̹͇͈̹̼̠̭͙̪͉͓̙̠͓̖̲͖͙͚͔̠̤̮̟͉͎͇̥̻͙̻̺͚̜̣̹̩̬͙̥̖̱̥̘͕̞͕̣͉̤̲͎̪̼͕̮̼͇͇̩̮͙̘͎̻͕͙͎͓̞̬͕̤̥̖̠̟͖̤̦̹͔̹̠̦̭̭̲͈̬̫̲̝̠̖͕̰̝̺̻̤͖̳̫͈̗̻̲̬̟̯̣̜͕̰͙̺̮̫͔̫̪̫͉̲̦̱̳̲̰͎̠͚̞̘͚̜͈̮̤͇͇͉̬̜̯͍͓̟̠̥̞̪̻͔̪̼̩̯̦̲̠̝͔͍̝̘͇̯͔̼̙̳͊͗͗̐̈́͒͑̀͊̌̌̽̂̈̎̈́̉̈́͗̔̊̑̑̈̓̈́̑̾͂͆̓͆̂̒͋̐͗͛̈̿͐̿̈̈́͋̀̿̍̀̒́͑͗̅̋̑̈́͋͑̒͂̒͊̎̈́̋̌̊͋̏͂͆͂̀̾̑̏͊̍͊͑̓̀̅̽̌̑̍͗̉̾̅̊̀̋̍͛͆̒͗̃̍̈͂͆͆̅̓͆̄͐̿̓̑̑̊͊̋͋̽̈̋̈́̐̇̌͆̿͆̓̎̽́́̇̂̽̓͊̅̈́̓̾̇̎͋̓̏̉̆̍̂̎̌͑̒̿̇̂̄̔̓͒̈́̓̀̈́̈̔͂͋̌̎̐̿̿̽͂̊̎̈̇̒̾͗̾̅͑͊̈́̆̈́̊͒̾͑̃͑̈͋̈́̾͋̏̈̏̐͋̑̈́̎̒̐̔͐̇͂̒͑̆̈́̓̊̒͌̚͘͘̚̚̕͘̚̕̕̚͘̚͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅI̶̢̧̨̡̡̨̢̢̢̡̡̧̢̡̢̧̬̹̤̪͚̟̞̬͉͇̮̟̹̳̼̩̲̯̥͉̞̯͔͙͕̪̫̣̦̳̺̭̝͈͇̺̬̲̳̗͖̣͚͖͕̬͖̱̤̜̟̻̼̻̠̫̪͉̩̙͇̱̘̻̤̮̱͍̲͖̺͖͍͈͉͉͓̻̘͉͔̹̹̭̣̝͇̠̠͇͖̱̯̗̜̝̱̗͔̫̠͔̯̮̱͖̟̙̗̲͈͈̮̞̮̥͙̜̣̟̭̬̣̬̫̞̙͇̳͕͖̱̺̹̻̔̐͐̆̿̊͐̚͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅŞ̷̡̢̧̧̡̧̧̢̡̧̨̢̯͍͉̪̠͕̱͕̩̙̙̰̻̬̹̹̺̦̺̮̗̩̳͉̤̠̪̰͇͓̰̰̩͙̟̘̫̦̞̘̩̭̼̻͔͈̯̭͚̼̲̼̤̻͙̠̟͉̹̯̩̥̪̪͚̮̞͉̺̹̜̰̯̬̠̞̼̟̗̟̺̲̰̭̲̖̳̫̼̇͑̈́̈́͂́̆̂̔͛̐̔̽͑̑̉̒͛͌̓̂̏́̎̅͐̏̔͂͆͆͊̂͌̑̓́͊́̂̀̃̔̋̃̒̄̉̃͆̆̚͝͝ͅ ̶̡̡̢̡̧̡̢̨̧̢̢̨̨̨̧̨̧̢̛̛̗̼̙͇̘͙̠̤̦͙̜̬̩͎͚̳͎̹̥̠͚̳͉̠̣̼̺̘͉̟̰͈̠͇̤̱̘͇̱͖̩̝̫̘̟̪̝̣̖̹̲̯̞̫̦̞̮̟̤̭͙̯̤͎͖̱̤̜̱̘̦̹̰͈͓̩̬̫̰͇͕̰̗̠͓̝͚̯͔̺͚̰̻̦̺̣̻͓̯̭͙̪̘̲̤̪̬͖̺͙͖̭̖͍͚̱̦͚̠̣̹̺͇͓͎̮͖̳͖̣͎̠͍̝͔̣̩̤͔̰̭̠̦͍͈̙̠͇̻̗̝̙̹͕̼͉̲͙̭̬͇̳̱̗̻̝̠͓̗̬̠̩̱̙̰͍̫̹̘̱̜̞̣̲̳̲̲̩̫̗̬͚̱͈̣̪̼͇̼̟͕͖̙̙̺̻͚͈͓͗̽͛̈̑̅͗̅̂̑̅͛͑̎͗͌̐͆̐́̌̄̂̍̽̐͗̍̆̈́̎͆͑͆̊͒̈́̑͌̍̚͘̚͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅN̸̡̨̛̦̙͔͇͍̮̫̦͉͎͍̏̏͗͐͊̽̉̀̄͗͊̆̋͒̃̿̑͐̈́̅̀̇̀̉̒̽̎͗͂͗̌̈́̾͛̋̍̑͑̈̐̐̄̆͌͒̈́̏̄̎͊̍̎̍̐̓̒͋͆͗̐̅̅̓͋̒̄̊̐̋͊̊̽̎͒͐͐̾̆͌̏͊̀͆̈́̽̅̑̆̊́̎̔͗͐̃̏̇͗̓̀̈́́̍͛̃͑̒͒̇͑̎̓̀͆́̓̅̅̐̑͛̎̿̾̌͗̓͗͌̈́̂̀̌̿͌̿͗̿̓͛͂͊̀̀̽̅͑̓̆̆̅̿̌͛̐̋̊̿̿̒͆́̇̈́̐̑̊̇̌̎͆́̓̓̔̇͊́͋̃̇̾̋͌̏͛̿͑̊̀͐̓͗͊̌̍̒͌̔̓̍͆͛̀̍̿̽͑̄̅͒̋̒̓̏̈͘̚̚̕̚͘̕͘̚͘̕̚͘̕̕̚̚̚͘̕̚̚͘͘̕̕͝͠͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝Ơ̵̛̛̛̖̜̖̮̮͈͇̟̰̗̘̹̙̻̫̳̫̱̲̠̻͕͇̘̥͓̥̻̬̫͚̥̭͈̫̟̜̳̥̰͍͓͎̝͆̆͋̾͛͒̆̇͑̑̒̌̓̆̃̊̄̅͋̎̈́́̎̔̄͋͆́͂͆̂͑̇͐͛̉͐̓͒̈́̊̉̓͐̍́̂̆̿̇̈͒̑̐̂̂̅̌̎̎͌͊͊͗̄͗̋͊̆̈̅͋̌͆̏̋͑̓̃̈́͑̏̈̀͛̃̔̄̈̃͐̍̽̾͌́͒̓̾̓̃̾͑̓̎̑̈́̓̍̓̀̾̒̿̊͗̒̿̌̇̍̆̈̆̈̾̎͋͋͆̂͘̚͘̕̚̕̕̚̚͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅT̵̢̧̢̨̧̧̛̛͇̖̣͓̱̞̤̱̮̪̭̫̠̫̝̣̲̹̻̬̻̝̲̯͓̰̮̝̺̳̭̩͓̗͓͕̲̮̹̖̹̹̯͖̙͍̪͈̙̦̙̹̝̣̲̺̹͉̦͍̮̲̠͚̰̤̯̞̳̹̖̹̩̞̳̘̩͓͓͑̑̄̌͛̈́͛̐̈́̔͌͋͋̽̈́̏̾͑̉̃̔̌̍͑̇̀͐͆̃̄̎̏̾̋̾̋̃̀̈́̽̏̓͂̐͆̔͂̈́̇̐̑̔̊͊̑̒̀̉̍̀͂͋͒̈̃̋̈́̇̋̀͗̅̀̏̍͆̿̓͌̕̚̕̚̚̚͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅ ̵̧̧̨̧̨̢̨̢̧̨̧̡̡̡̨̢̧̨̧̧̢̨̨̨̡̧̡̨̧̡̢̢̨̛̛̛̛̳̟̫̩͍̼̮̯͇͉̟̣̣̪̮̺̠̰̪͔̭̪̳̱̰̞̖̪̘̘̥͕̤̥͉̪̭͎͔͈̱͉͕̝̬͈̩͖̰͎̱̝̫͙̠̠̠͉͇̟͎͕̲̝̺̦͙̮̼͎͔͔̮͉͎͇͉͎͕̩̻̙̯̯̠̺̹̪̥̬͖̣̻̣̰̹͚̥̻̫͖̙͍̟̼̮̹̯͈͚̰̹̙̙̖̣̫͕͍̥̗̙͔̱̰͍͚͙͇͔̤̳͚̥̹̥̩͓̲̠̞̲̤̘̣̪̼͈͕͚̩̟̱̹͎̱̤̜̻͉̪̺̖̻͔̮̞̪̦̦͉̲̦̲̮͉͍̤͎̩̦̖̹̜̺̣̫͉̰̳̳̗̳͕̘̝̠͈̠͍͖̞̗̤͍͖̻̫̹̝͖̦̞͔̮̮́̒͋̂̓̒͑̒̆͊́̓͂̎͛͆̃̌́̊̈́͑̽̈́̆͊̂̋̐͒̆̑̒̄̒͒̍̽̇̀̈́̏͛̀̀̄̊̇̈́̂͐͋̐̀̐́̔̆͊̃̂̌̓̇͋̈́̎̉̄͗̕̕̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅƠ̷̧̧̧̡̡̨̧̨̡̧̡̧̢̢̢̢̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͓̬͎̯͖̥̬̺̪͍̙͎̩̹̥̭͈͉͉̟͎̯̯͈͖͇̙͓͉̥̬͕̥͇̹̙͈̰͖̘͖̫̳͚̹̯̯͚̥̺̼̲͉͖̻͚̯͍̲͔͔̝̻̼̼̲̦̼̣̰̱̲͔͎̗͚̭̟͈̝̣̻̺̲̤̰̩͇̭̞̲̥̲̺̺̺͕͔͈̞̪̜͚̞̼̞͕̘͖̙͕͕͚̟̣̻̯͉̰͎͓͖͉͈̯̬͇̦̬̯̻̖̤̦̤͙͙̈́̑̔̈̓̃̓̈́͗̓̇͑̒̈́̔͆͆̊̄̇̌̾͊̄͑̈́̎̂͋̃̔̌͆̎̾̎̓̈͋̆̔̒̿̓͐̿̇̾͋̈̾̈́̅͋̈́̊̿͆̐͒̈̈́̋͋͒̇̔̉̂̈̽̑͐̓̎̓̇͊͐̾͂͑̔̓́̉̓̄̿͒̎̔͐̈̃̋̌̄̅̒̀̈́̌͒̃͌̇̅́̅̈́̂͒̔́͑̆̊͊́̄̿̿̈̉̓̈́͛͗̍̔̓͘̚̕̚͘̕͘͘̕͘͘͘͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅV̶̡̡̨̢̧̡̛̛̛̛̫̖̥̩̣̲̳̼̣̳͈̞̤̭̫̻̤̼̹̻̩͈͉̭͙̖͉͓̬̖̗̳̥̼̋̔̆͂͋̿̊͋͛̓͑͐̈́͊͋͒̔̿͐̓͋͋̈́̏̌̑͂͗̃̓̑͊̅̃͐̈́͋̈́̽̏̋̈́̄́̎͛̾̒̏̈́͛̈́̓̆̿̿̃̈́̔̍̌͊̎̔̏̽̌̓̊̄̎̈́̀̿̿̿͂͌̏͆͐̏͑̎́͆̂̒̎̊͒̎̄͗̎̿͑̔̐̍̆̊̊̓͊̌̀̈́̈́̿̄̈̂̅̓̒̈́͒̀̌̓̆͋̋̇̀̀̈́̋̏͐͗̌̂͛̄͛̿͑͊̃̎̉̔͂̈́̍̄͐̒̉̾͂̍̍̉̀͛̀͆̿̽̈́̏̎̇̎͋̎̄̇̊̆͒͒̇̅͋̿̿̔͋̽͌͒̃̎̍͊͌̇͆̅̕͘̚͘͘̕̕̚̚̕̕͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠Ȇ̵̢̡̧̢̢̢̢̨̧̢̨̛̯͖͙̬̦̯͔̝̝͚̰̭̣̟̦̲̲̣͈̞̗̥͕͍̞̰̗̪̬̲͎͍̮̲̙̟̩̳̮͓̯̩̹̻̰̮̰̥̬͓͖͕̹͎̫̭͇͙͖̖͓̺̹̺̝̗̣͔̦̝͓̠͍͎͔͓̺͙̦̰̝̜̞̭͈̲͔̲̼̳̤̖͕͎͕͎̲̩͍̰̫̭̗̜̬̱̟̠̘͖͔̻͍̩̼͖̪͓̣̣͓̯̱̹̺̼̹̤̟͋̆̈́̂̿̔͐̈́̿̅͊̑̌̇͗̆͑͒̉̈́̒̉̿̏͗͂͑̈̈̃́͆͗͂̄͂̿̓̔̽͊̓̆͊̾́̔͂͊̑̓͋͌̽̓̄͗̉͊͋͐͛͆̒̄̋͊̾̾͗̿̉͊̑̅̌̋̂̈́̈́̈́̓͐̽̊͌͑̔̈̑̽̊͗̐͂̎̋̉̐͗̆̽͗̏̑̂͒̔͒̈̀̓͐̂̅̅̂͌̌̅̂̓͗̂̎͌̾̃̄̓͒̕͘͘̕̚͘̕̚̚̕̕͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅR̶̢̧̨̡̨̧̢̢̡̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̪̟̱̣̤͈̻̖͔̤͎̠͔̼̣̩͈͈͕̲̠̦̝͇͓͈̩͇͙̟̙͕͕̼̼͙͉̠̻̱̘̟͔̮͕̜̜̱̤̮̠̖͎̯̰̟̭͉̖̻̠̞̼͕̞̞̬̺̺̝̰͔͎̱̟̱͚͇̄̾̑͛͗͑͗̈́̆͂͂͊̊͛̌͗̐͑͆̄̽̈̂̈́̈́̓͊̎̇̈̔̑̔̆͋͑́̆͆̅̐̉̓̈́̃͐̉̓̑̀̂͒́͂̿̒̅̃̂̏͐̌̔̔̋̑̽̊̂̎͑͌̆̋͌̐̊̏̑̿̒̔̓̈̏̊͗͊̄̀̋̅͋͑͐̂̒̇͂͛́͗͛̒̊̄̅̿͗̎͋̇͛̐̅̏͊͗̊̽̈̏͌̆̐͑̂̊͋͑̑́̌̈́̎̌̈́͐̅̓͋͗̾͑̈́͂̊̄͗̿̄̌̐̄͐̍̒̈́͑̾̓̔̍̇͒̌̉͒̽̐̑̔̋̌̈̆̊̓̀̓̊̈́͑̒͂͒͊́̑̿̋̔͌̈́̂̐̎̉̐̂̈͌͒̏͊͒̈̅͗͂͑͐̈̄̏͊̌̆̆͌̿̀̓̅̈́̉̓̐́͒͑͆̉̋̊͂̏͘̚̕͘̕͘͘͘̚͘͘͘͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅ

  
  
  


_ [→ Chapter 50](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745303) _


	49. forty-nine.

  
  
  


H̷͔̿͂̔̑͆̐͊̊̈́͊̎̾͌̌͋̌̋͌̓̑͑͘͝Ą̶̨̨̛̗̬̲́̽͗͒͑̔́̃H̶̤͇̫̭̲̖̺̲͕͇̟̠͈̠͈͍͖̠̦̘͔̮̥͊̈̋̓̒͗͘͜A̵̡̢̛̛̛̫̳̗̹̩͇͒͊̔̉͛̈̍͂̍̇̑͗̀̂̅̊̈́̇̽͘Ḧ̸̨͚̫͆̈́̄̊̐̂̋̄̊̏̊̓̾͐̈͗͑̃́̐̕͝ͅĂ̶̢̧̡̠̠͍͉̹͇̻̘͇̦̬̲̭͉̰͎͇̰̤̥̘̻̽̔͆͗Ḧ̸̼̭̝̞̳̗͖̞͔́̍̋̄̉̌̾͋̐͂̆̂̍̓͘͝A̵̼̒̎̾̽̐̆̓̾͝͠Ȟ̴̨̡̧̛͍͇̙̜̺̅̀̔̔̽͑̆̓͑͑̿͋̋͜Ą̷̯̥̖̭̙͓͓̙̼̪͓͎̱̟̩̪̗̎̉̈́̉̒̾̇̔̌̽̎̈̐̓͠͝ͅͅH̸̡̧̨̨̠͍͈̮̖̳͕̮̲͇͚̟͐͛̈́͆̆̅A̴̱̔̉̓̐͂H̶͕̯͇͖̘̠̙̫͉̩̱̗̤͐͒͐̒̈́͑̽͆̀̍̂͊͗̑̿̐͝Ă̸̡͇̳̠̱̟̟̞̣͛͋̋̔̿͆̈̾̚̕͜͠͝Ḧ̷̳̫͇̦̖̙̼͈̖́̈̽A̵̢̩̟̠͌̃͛́͊͘ͅḤ̷̱̯̍̆̉̍͜Ä̴̧̨̧̛̛̱̱͓̯̲͓͉̻͕̠͓͙̯̙̥͇̱̻̭͌̒͐͌̍̌̾̉͑̓̆͑͜͝͝H̵̨̢̛̤̹͙̱̬̠̟̙̱̲̻̪̣̰͌̀͛̎̍͊͊̒̚͘A̸̧̢̛͕͓̻͔͈̟̲͇̤̤̩͉̠͊͆͆͋̿͐̾̓̈̑̾̉̄̆̃̕Ḩ̶̢̡̝̪͚͈̖͔̣̗̯̤̩̗̝͖̎̈́̏̎̍͗̆̔̒͂̈́̚͠͝ͅÀ̵͎͔͑͗̓̄͑͐̓̄͂́̒́̿͒͒̌̔̈́H̶͖͔̮͓̓̂̎́̈͝A̷̮͔̹̔̈́͒H̶̱͛̑̊͌͑̈̒̍͂̊̕͝͝Â̷̡̧̡̛̛̠͈͔̫̤̼̟̖̖̺̞̲̏̓͆͊͊̌̆͗͋̎̊̾̉̎͘͝͠͝H̴̡͈͇̺̜̟̗͉̺̥̖͍̗͈̹͋̉̈́̃̄͂͐͐͛̈́͆̇̓̂̚͘͠͠A̶͓̣̠̫̪͎͕̹̫̼̭͔͚̋̏̒̽̎͛͛H̶̢̯̼̻͈̥̼̗̻͚̪̐́̾́̿͑͊͑̓͛̃͒̑̚͠͝͠A̵͈͙͉̹̟͓̓̓̽́̾̉̏̍͛̒̆͊́̓̾̂͗̍͂̄͘͝͝͝Ḩ̶̛̭͕͈͔̣̘̫̻̭͍̯̫͐͐̎͐̿̋͛̊̅̿̚ͅA̴̢̢̨̛̬̞̲̮̟̩͍̻̟̙̗̺̟̺̼̼̥͉̗͈̎̅̋̌͂̅̊̒̍͗̆̓̊̆̂̿͊̿̽͘̕̕͝H̵̨͇͕̳̣͇̜̰̋̀̌̑͂̌͗̀̃͂Á̴̧̠̱̳̳͓̘̳̲͇͚͙̟̺̞̦̗̯̩̻̬͍̊̈̃͊̋̑Ḣ̷̨̨͚̻̤̹͈͉̘̿͊̌̉͐͛͌̉̾̅̔͊́̾͋̕A̵̡̡̧̡̟̲̝̟̯̩̞̰̥͈̝͓͈̞͕̣̬̦̘͉͑̐͆̊̊̀̈́̈͛͂͐̍́͒͋̏͘̚͜H̸̳̥͕̫̰̭͔͔͎͕͖͇͓̯̿̒̾͂̎̏À̸̧̢̛̼͈͈͕̼̟̘͍̺͚̺̲̪̖͖̻̪̖͇̖̥̙̇̇̊͑̊͊̔̽͗̾̽͑͂̋́̔͘͘̕̚͠͝H̵̨̡͖̘̹͓̥͕̭̠͙̭̫̫̙̱̤̩͂͆̎͑͛͋͂͑̀̏̓͐͋̕͝A̶̢̦͊͝H̷̞̘̩͇̦͉̗̠̩͕̟̬̣͓̠̮̝̘͈̗̼͚̮̋̿͂̽̓̔̿̇̈̂̌͗̚͜͠͝A̷̡̢̠̳̗̩̲̦͓̠̫̬̟̖͗̊͊͋̍̏̓͂̔̒̃̂͘͝͝ͅͅH̵̛̩̃̊̉͒̌̽͗̈́́̚͝À̴̡͖͈̝̥̗̱̱͇͉̟̤̥̰Ḩ̷̨̡̗͙͎͙͙̳̥͎͍̹̣̳̲̣̹̗̻̼́͆̈́̽̒̆̽͐̾̌̒̏͠͠ͅͅÄ̷̢̢̡̧̯̰͖͙̼̱̙̜̠͇͓̫́͊̇̉́͑̎̏͐͊̆̚͜͜͠H̴̨̢̛̞̱̩̳͔̰͚̟̤̹̥̟͔̭͚͇̜̱̠̜̠̀̋̈́͊̌̆̅̂͂̔̓͋͑̿́̄̑̆̕̚͜͠Ǡ̷̻̩͔̝̲̯̬̞̹̪͍̿͋̈́̐̀͝H̶̬͆͊̔̉́͂̍̑̔̀͛͛̄̂͛̕͝͝Ả̵̢̺̻̤̜͍̙͚̭̘̤͚̬͛̌͆̿͜ͅH̶̩̠͎̰̠̫͖̊͋͗̿͑̆͂̋̉̃̒̾̉̔́̚͜͝S̵͎͈̙͉͛̒̒͊̅͂͗̇̈́͐͌̊͛͆̉͆̆̈́͘͝͝B̵̠͉͙̥͓̘̪̳͖͉̓̆̀̆̋͌͊̌͗̎̉͘͘̕͘͝͝͝ͅH̴̻̮̯̥̦̤̣́͒̿͛̕S̴̟͈̗̲̜̖̩̰̙̖̦̪̈́̄̾͂̓̀͋̅̿̌̈́̔̿̎̆͐̋͘D̵̨̢̛͚͍̩͉̥͓͔̻̱̥͉͚̖̼̤͙͔͇̪̰̖̲̐̾͐̒̀͆̄̄̾̅̅͂̌͒̓̈̚̚͜͝͝B̴͔̳̥͑̄̈́̉̾̓̈́̈́̈̍͌̐͛̔̔͆̍̇̅͘͝͝D̵̨͎̜̠̘̝̭̰̥͔̹̼̘̼̜̟̍̾̓̈́́̓͆͌̕͜͜͜H̸̡̛̼̾̋̍̑̉̉̅́̈́̆̃̂̋̎̍̉͐͛̏̕͝͠͠S̵̡̨̢̨̝̰͈̠̣̦̲̩͈͓̗̲̥̰̠̱̗̦̉͐̇̃̃̊͐̃̽̇͆̊͆̔̕͠ͅJ̷̛̯͕̓̏͒̌͗̉̔͗̈́̒̂̂̏̆͆̚͘̚͠͝͠Ḋ̶͇̰̞̲̭̥͜ͅŞ̸̠̪̪̗̳̯͚̰̹̞͕̦͕͍̦̤̲̆͑́͆͂͋̅̕͜ͅS̷͔̒̓͗͑͆Ḑ̸̢̝̳̥͇̩̣̞͎̱͓̜̭̮̦̋͛̓̂̽̌͜͜D̸̢̧̨̳̜͉͚̮̪̗̲̤̘͚͙͉̖̝̫̖͐̽̔͝ͅI̸̢̻͎͗̈́̂S̵̡̧̠͖̻̯̪̞̖͇͓͕͚̫̩̘͉̲̺̞̘̎͜ͅU̷̞͈͐͊͊̈̐͌͐͂͐͋̄͋̇́̉̆̓̎̑̓̓͝͠I̶̫̾͐̑̌̒̅̉̓̀́͛̌͆͒̄̋̍̒̒̇̓͗͠͝Ȉ̸͍̠̺̱͔͙̘̘͓͖̠̅͒̊́̒̄́͑̽̽̍͑̑̍̊̈́̈́̏̕͜͠͝Ù̸̜̘͙̗̻͕̖̼͍̞̙̖̬̣̦̳͔̐̃̽̃̿̈́G̵̡̞̃̈́̋̎̆̿́̈́̿̒̃̃̾̀̆̾͂̇͒͘͝͠Ẻ̴̛͍͚̭̰̭͉͈͉̪͓̤̻͕͎͖͇̖̬͂̌̅̑̈̔͗͐̾̈́̈́̾̋̈́̐͒̚W̸̧͓̥͇̣̯̝̲͖̦͉̜̫̼̤̗͚͎̪̦̓͋̔̌̒͂͊̈́̏͊̏̆̍̑̀̋͂͑̏͘͝I̵̘͚̫̙͈̱̩̮̗͇͙̼͎̼̗̗̓̎͛͂͂̊̆̓̕ͅB̶̡̢̛̼̖͉̬͔̤̖͚͌̽͂̓̃̊̑̽̉͌͒̐̌̕̕͘̕͝͠͝Ŗ̴̨͚̥͉̝̼̝̭̰́͜Ȋ̷͎̻̥̮̱̳̞̳̙̫͈̘͍̗̹͔͕͆͆͊̉ͅR̸̡̡̧͇̮͈̼̤̠̯̰͉̰̤̲͔̼̲̟͔͉̳̒͋͆̌̓̓̌̿̎̓̄̏̆̇̅͐͘̚͘͠͝W̸̻͇̦͎͇̗̘̩̞̳̟̝̱̠͖̆̊̿͗͑̓̓̈̐̅͑̇̅̑̉̉̈́͐̕̕͘̚͠͠N̶͚̠̙̳̳̱̖̱̠̭͕͙̖̂̈̈́̎̑̾̈́̉͆͌̉̓͛̉͌̍͊̽͘͜͝͝R̴̰͈͓̠͖͔̠̣̠͖͎͙̠̪̗̺̗̠̓̃͑̊̚͜ͅW̴̡̛̦͖̹͕̮͍̼̉̀̎̍̂̄͐̈͗̋͐̃͊͂͌̒̅͠͝͝ ̷̢̨̢̧̢̦͕̠͖͙͖͎̳̹̠̪̩̜͉̜̺̹̓̃̽̆͜͜͠͠͝͝O̵̡̭̼̩͓͈̥͉̣̲̠̩͙͛̽̈́̐̑̾̈̋̍̉͆͂͌̎̊́̈́̒͛̽̊͘̕͝ͅͅŸ̸̧̙͖̩̫͈̮͉̘̬̱͈̪́̿́̈́͒͐͆͛̋̾̉̈́̾̅̽̅̚̕̕͝͝͝ͅͅŐ̸͈͖̬͕̦͇̜̥͗̋͌̾͗̄̂͋̒̚͘͠Ů̸̢̻̝̞͎̯̠̜̭̭̦̩̯͆͒͒̿͗͆́̓͂̈́͆̕͜ͅͅ ̸̩͍̹̤̤̟̖̱̟͛̏͊̍̇̈́̇̿̈́̆̉̃̔̒̓̿͛͒͗͜C̴̠̱̭͕͉̲͓̰̮͙̪͖͈̙͍͉̽̽̎͂̂̈́̋͝͝A̵̧̧̡̯͖̜̺̻̲̥̯̘̱͔͐̋̾̒̒̔͊̐̍͆̏͑̄͗͒́̔̈́N̵̡̗̜̻͉̣̪̳̰̬͔̖͙̙͍͕͐̈́͑̐̓̒̃͛̄̊͗̓͘̚͝͝͝͠Ţ̴̢̭̮̘͍̪̖̯̩͓̰̣̦̪̱̣̫̳̠́̊̔̎̃͒͂͑̒ ̴̧̧̡̛̣̠͇̘̪̰̲͎͙̩̬̝̩͈̱̠͕͍̣̺͉̍̾̓̓̌͌̓̍͂C̶̢̞̠̹͆͗͊̇̏̿̋̇̓͋͐̾́́̔̐̿̒̈̕̕̚͜͠ͅA̵̛̯͈̮̣̹̟̣͕͐̓̒̌̓̍͐̔̊̊͜͜͝ͅT̴̢̢̲̦̟͕̻͚̹̥̺̮͓̖̫̼̩̥̐̇̑͐̐͘ͅͅČ̴̡̰̪̗̞͉̗̰̙͍͈̥̮̝̹̣̺̫̺̲̻̦̠̰͑͗͑́̈́H̷̙̾̍͗̏̀̊͋̔̒̾̒̈́̈̏̇̓̇͘͘͝͝ ̵̧̭̱̩͇̜͎̝̝͖̏̅̃͆̉̽͊̈́͊̈́̿̀̑̔͂̐͋̌̽̑͘͝͠M̵̢̛͖̫̦̪͈͕̲̱̭͓͙̘͍̩̜̞͐̑̉̆̓̃̆͒̾̅̆̿̎̾͋̐̚͘͜ͅͅĖ̶̤ ̴̢̧̛̱̠̭͓̝̓̀̎̂̓̌͘̕Y̴̡̼̫̖̲̦̲̌͗̍̽͝Ọ̴̡̨̰̳̝͚̳̲͓͖͈̃̒̈́̋͒̈́̈́̔̿͋̎̉̔̏̋̀͜͝Ụ̵̝̘̗̘̺͉̣̩̥͔̣͍̤̖̹͍̼͇̋̉̍̐̑͛͘͘̚͜͝͠ͅL̸̳̜̺̥̝͎͗̍͌̎͗͂̊͐͆͗̈́̈́̍͘͝͝͝͝͝ͅL̸̨̢͈͇͕͍͍̙̤͇̟͔̯̫͚̜̭͙͔͑͐̓͛̔͂̽͒͗̔̏̃̚ ̶̡̳͎̞̲͍̦̠̖̻̲̣̆͊̂̇̊̉͆͘Ņ̶̢̧̨̧̭̦̦̹̳̳̳̝̹͙̱͓̤̫̪͓̼̹͇̝̉́̽͆̉͗̈́̆͊̂̀͐̕͘̚̕͝E̶̛͈̺̗̭͍̳̙̺͉̖̟̪̜͍̙̲̜͈͉͛̍̔̇͋̄̃̂̇͆̋̐̕ͅV̸̡̦̭̙̼̣̖͓̥̣͕̻̋͛̉̇̎Ę̷͚͍̬̜̘̭̞̖̮̱̠̼͕̲̝̣̈́̆̈́̚Ṟ̶̡̛̳̰̞̗̰̫͖͕̲̟̓̽̆̆̃̈́͆͌̃̈́͋̉̅͋̍̈͛͘͝͝͝ ̸̲̝͕̥̺̩̪͉͎̺̻̳̑̈́̿͛̆̒͆̃̿͗̆̀͘͝͝C̴̡̛̥̤̮͈͔̹̫̜̊̉͒̀̂̐̍̈́̎̎̒̐̆̓̍̾̚͘͘͠A̶̠̮̭͉͇͍̭͉͚̘͇̫̤͇̫̜͔͎͈̘͚̦̾͂T̶̨̼̥̓̆̊̈́̌̇͋̓͗͗̉̚C̸̢̧̡̛̛͈̪̪͚͙̥̩͈̹͙̫̳͙̮͌̋͌͋͂̑̃̿̿͆͑̔̍͐͐̎͌̎͝͠Ḩ̸̧̛̯̲̳͉̘̻̥͚̭̬̏͑͐̄̈́̿̈́̔̑̚͝ͅ ̴̨̥͍͎͉̙̜̅͛̓͑̈́̊̏̈͐͐͌͠Ě̶̗͈̼̗̙̻̖̟̼̞̟̜̜̝̀̽̾͊̓́̍͗͑̓͛̈́͘͘͘͝͝ͅM̵̻͕͓͉͉͉̲̲̊̀͆̀Ę̴̡̧̮̪̟̺̦͍̪̬͙̱̬̦͚̦͛̋͛͊͋͋͂̎̏̊̽́͊ͅ ̸̧̢̳̖̮͓͓̲̺͕̙̟̣͕̥̭͍̮̹͍̼̂̑͗̎͋̏̉̈́̔̀̑̿̚̚͜ͅȂ̶̺͙͍͈̝̒̐͋̉̈̕͠S̴̛̯͕͇̘͇͈̄̓͗̑̑̅͗̄̏́̿̅̄̏͘͠͝ ̴̧̡̘̼͗̌̓̚͝L̴̨̦̝̪͔̝͙̞͚̲̤͔͍̬̤̩͓̥͇̳͙͈̮̈͜Ơ̶̢͍͍̺̱͕͛̒̓͆͒͛̔̑̚N̶̡̮͎̭͇̹͈̪̜̲̠̣̳͓̗̭̮̲͙͉̺͖͆̌͐́̽̀͊̚̚̕͜͝͠ͅG̴̨̺̞̮̳̠̭͎͕̣͂̔̐̐̓̓̓̂̈͆̑͠͝ͅ ̸̢͍̥̥̹̗̘̗̗̼̍̏̆̽̏̓͜ͅA̴͇̟̤͓̝̹̋̀ͅŠ̸̜̮͍͕͔͕̲̘̜͉͈̮͈͖̲̱̟͚͓͓̥̲̣̤͛̔̆͑͗͒̉̅͂̑̊͠ ̵̙͉͍̞̲̖̗̊̅́̍̆̈́̆͛̂͐̃͆̾̄̌͊͂͒̚͠Ȉ̵̢͉̞̯̬͓͉͍͈͚̝̥̭̹̙͚̪͙̦̤̲̓͋̒̋͆̓͑͗̏͜ ̶̧̧͈̦̝̭̫̮̦͖̟͓̍̓͑́̆̏͐̇̓̉̆̏͘͝͝ͅĻ̶̢̰̱̣̓́̄͂̚͠͝͝͝I̴̛͚̳̝͔͙̥̥͚̎̎̈́͆̍̿͐͒̚͠V̶̛͚̀̌̇̄̍̀̇͋̂͠͝͠E̷̡̦̦͔̩͍͕̹̲̱͈͚̮͍͎̘̭͗̈͂͌̋͗̃͒̂͋̌͑̀̅̚̚̚͜ ̸̝̪͓͑̉͛̑̋̍̈́͂̈́̓͌͂̇̾́̊̊͘̚̚͠Ṯ̸͐H̴͈͕̠̪̹̦́̽͗̉E̸̢̢̩̱̤̦̻͕̭̖͙̼̪̖̹̯̜̗̬̪̎́͜ͅͅ ̶̧̢̨̺̦̰̹̣̖̹̲͍̰̭̯̭̼̰͇̐̿͆̐̉̾̅̂̈̓̆̈͋̀̊̈́͘͜͝͠G̴̩̪͖͙̹̗̗̮̘̗̱̼̣̭͕̻̠̺̳̙̻͇̈́͗̂͒̈̎̽̒̅̒͌̚̚͝Ą̷͚͊̍̈́̈́̿̄͌̒̈͆͝T̷͇̟̝͖̩̞͚̜͉̒͑͝͠͝ͅÈ̶̢̡̧̛̮̝̺̘͍̖̦̹̖̦̺̰̮͕̖̎͌͐͒̿͋̂̂̇͘͘͘͜͜͝ͅṠ̸̢̢̛̺͖̩͚͚̻͍̠̫̭̗̭͕̹͇̰̱̯̫̤͎̆͑̈́̽͊̽͊͌͂̈́̊̚͜͜ ̴̡͕̬̲͖̙̣̪̮̤̺̓̑̾̉̚͝ͅO̶̡̼͙̳͖͕̰͉̥̹͙̮̳̹͍̹͙̙͛̽͆̈̄̋̎̏͆͆̑͒̂̈́͐̋̇̍͠F̸̛̹̠̥͖̜̭͎̲͔̱̭̜͈̼̲̺͎̮̜̪͇͓̣̣͑́̊́́͆̽̆̎͋̏̐̄̍̍̄̍̽͛̓̎͐͜͝͝ ̵̧̢̧̝̘̩̫̗̯̮̘͙̺̰̙̞̗̻͍̑̈́̂̏͛̒͆̏H̶̡͍̹̫̲̟̺̻͙̦͓̑͂̓͋̽̇̆̂̌̏̔̚͘͜͠͝Ę̴̦̭̲̠͓̖̙̞͉̯̥̭͉̥̹̻̄ͅͅͅL̷̩̹̝̭͈̙̝̈́̽̋̒̓͑̏̅͊̋̐̔̾̋͠L̴̞̼͖͇̹̱͙̲̤̹͈̜̮̗͋̽̓̽́̊́̏̽̓̈́̇̓͆̕͝ ̵̢̛͍̙̂̀̿̔̔̉̈̑̇͊͑͒̈́̇̌̃͛̑͗̕͠W̴̧̡̜̮̯̗̯̣̭̫̝͉̟͎̼̲̗̱͔̠̪̿̔̋̑̂̽͛͑̿̈́̚I̶̢̧̻͚͚̩̔́̃͗̽͆̾͐͐̈́̑̌̃̏̑̅̆̏̓̈́̌̒̚L̸̛̦̥̟̰̼̻͉̻̮̺̩͓̟̯̣͌̇̄̌̒̎̒̑̑̕L̵̨̻̮͍̼̮̮̰̝͉̙̺̖̪̟͉̄̅͌̉͗͑̆̌̒͊̔ ̶̧͈̞̊̏B̶̛̛̝̺̾̌̃̑͂̏̌̾̀̋̈́͑̆̏̂̓̀̓͝E̸̡͎̜̭̲̹̬͎͙̙̙͓͕͔̳͉̓͂̔̊͌̓̌͘͝ ̴̛̺̣̈̾̇̃̒̊͋̑͂̌̀͐͐̽͘͠Ơ̴̱͔̫̪͎̟̓̈́̌͑͛͋̂̒̅̉͆̆̑̊̚̚͜͝͠P̶̬̰͇͈͓̟̞̬̭̤̥͕̠̺͂̎͌̒̒̃̊̓́͋̏͂̋̓̋͆̒̚͘̚͘̕E̷̢̜͖̳̪̪̲̯̝̰̻͉̫̫̭̖͓̩̙͉̠̝̬͆̽͒̇͊͗͜ͅŅ̷̢̢̲̠̞͈͚̱̯̩̱̹̘̬̺̘̟̞͇͖̝̩̠̏̉̿̐͌̎̊̅̄̓̊̈́̿̇̂͆̃̈́͛̑̚̕͘ ̸̨̺̤͕̟̞̱̲͔̪̙̈́̆͌̉̈̓̅̎͊̓̋̉̃̈́̊̇̾̓͂̚ͅĄ̴̧̻̭̫͉̱͉̟̙̜͓̞̫̰̜̊̊͛͛̒̐͒̒̂̒̈́̄̃̑̋͘ͅͅN̸̛̩̭͖͙͚̰̻̭̖̫̤̲͇̬̣͖̬̞̰̂̊͊̒̂̈́̈́̄̃̾̑͌̓̈́̂͆̀͋̈́̚͠͝D̴̡͖̲͖̟̺͓̅̔ ̷̢̨̬͇̟̖̦̝͓̫̥͈̞͎͔̳̮̻͕͍̝̋̉̀͐̂̈́̃̓̿̍̇͋̓̄͘͝͝W̵̧̼͙͛̀̑̂̆̇̃̂̇͂͂̂̍͘̕R̴̥̈́̽̒̈̌͒̈̉͒̏̅̋̊̿̾̆̎̔̚̕͘͝͠͝ͅE̵̢͍̖͍͈̱͛̊̒̌̋̈́̿̂̅́́̚͘̚͝ͅC̵̤̘̟̥̥͈͖͕̥̙̠̿̌̈́͂͒̋͐͐̑̽̏̌͛̆͛̈͘̚͝K̸̤͕̥̗͔̳͉̜̪̆̌͗͑̕͝ͅ ̷̢̧̭̝̬̱͍̝͔̫̱͎̞̬̪̲̘̓͜H̸̢̝̳͎̮͇̝̲̋̋͑͊͜͜A̸̧̡̛͕̯̖̭̘̦̜̫̦͖̦̼͓͖V̶̧̨̹͖̬̼͚͖̬͇̜̞̣̹̩͗̏̑̒̂̆̓͝͝Ơ̶̬̥͉̙̳̺̻̞̰̼͗̋͆͐͋̑̌͆̿̋̽̏͑́̽͛͜͝ͅͅÇ̷̢̥̘͖̠̻͙̲̫̦͋̈́̽͆̍̈́͛ ̸̻̺͎̙̜̜̭̦̻̠̟̘͎̪̪̪̍̌̇͛̎͒͋́͂̎͌̿̈́͗̓̑̍̈̓͊̒͝͝O̸̹̹̙̙̰̼͈̘̠͈̩̳̎ͅN̷̛͙̈́̓͒͐̈́̃́̌̌́̍͆̈͗͒̿̃̊̕̚ ̵̯̹̙̣̻̦̭̟̮̻̇̆̐͑̏̈́Ĕ̸̡̢̳͉͙͖̯̣͚̺͓͔͇̦̲̦̏̏̆̆̈́͐̔̅͐̋̅͗̊̋̈̕̕͜ͅV̵̨̢̢̧̬͍̼̜̺͍̟̞̦͖̋͊Ë̷̡̱͉̹̫̟̼͍̰̖̰́̄̃̇Ṛ̸̨̫̫̹̯̼̜̣̹͇̯͒̄͒̓͗̊̋̂̽̍̚Y̴͙̳̼̫̟͎̞̭̞̬̠̖͚͙̠̪̘͉̖̭̗̯̠͊̾̔͋̐̐͛̒̚͘͠ͅT̵̡̛̝̰̻̝͚̪̩͇̯͕̖̊̌̈́̾͆͠Ḫ̴̠̓̓̆̏̔̿͆͑̓̆͂̐̑̍̓̈́̒͘̚͘̚̕͝͝ͅǏ̶̧̙̲̝͖̼̤̱͉̳͊̆̄̈͗͋͊̐͘N̴̨̢̧̛̮̗̻̲̫̤̰̮͍̹͍̗̳͎̮̩͊͒̇̈́̋̕͜͠ͅG̸̨̛̞̙̭̳̱͈͎͖̰̲͖̳̖͉̺̮̘̀͑̈́̒̈́̃̊́́̈͑̓̉̄̐̌̌̒̊̚͘͜͜ ̵̧͕̲͔̹̭͍̼͉̮̻̜̦̹̲̱̚̚ͅY̷͓̮̱͚͇̘̳͕͙̹̞̥̩͍͙͖̗̟̼̤͉̼̦̼͒̇̆̈́͒̿͆̌͊̃̌͗͌̇͛̏͊̄̌͘̕̚̕͜͠O̶͖̙̳͈̼͑̏̍́̓̉͑̆̍̽̓̔̄̏̍̔̕͘U̷̻̐̍̂̓̇͆́̓̿̽͌̈́͘ ̴̧̧̟̹̻̘̫̻̀̾̽͆̌̑̾̒͊̄̄̽̆̆̉̕͘͝͝Ķ̵̙̩̖̮̤̻̫͕͙̈́̅͊͐̃̊́͜Ñ̴̥̦̞̼̦̫̝̯̭̺͂̏̈̾̂̏̍͑̾͒̔̽͘Ǫ̶̡̡̨̠̯͈̬͇̳̊̓̀̃̔̍͛͑̽̾̋̚̚͝W̸̦͔̻͉͇̥̬̦͈͎̼̭̉̏̔͆̓̉̈́͋̈́̅̈̂̋̾͋͑̒͘͘ ̴̹̦̭͎̗̲̻̭̩̯̪̘̯̃͑͆̏̆̅̐͂̔͋̅͑̚͜͠Ą̵̠̟͙͍̼̝͓̪̟͚̲̬̦͔͗͗̉͝ͅͅŅ̷̻̦̘̠̼̘̬͎̠͇̝͚͊̉̋̊͐̎̓͐̍͗́͊͑̏̌̏̿͛̍̋̈́̐̚D̷̡̛̩͙̹̮̜̬̖̳̼̼̘̥̝̉͒̊ ̴̡̧͓̗̦̮̼̯̝̤͍̝̜̰̗̈́̎͆͗́͋̓͠ͅL̵̡̨̧̪͍̭͔̲̪͆̈͒͛̉̅̔̾̓̃̈́̌O̴̢̢̧̤͍̪̪̫͙̟̮̟͚̺̣̻̹͎̎̈͂̒̉̔́̾̌̋͗͆̐̒̓͒͆̚͘ͅV̴̡̢̧̢̻̻͚̹̙͕̲͓͕̣͕̥̖̯͖͉͖͈́̅̄͐͂͌̐͊̍̇̿̈̓̓̐̍̈̕͘̚͘͜E̵̡̼̘̓̃̈́̈̊̕̕ ̸̧̛̼̝̦͖̜̱̝̲̜̜̻̞͚̏͛̏̇͐̿͐̅́̂̈́̐̽̄͘͜I̵̡̨̬͖̯̼̩̯̤̞̳̘̟͕̰̝̾͐̑͊͂̊̄̓̆̋̔̃̔̚͜͝ͅͅ ̶̛̜̿̀͌̉̐̽͐̀͆̇̕̚W̵̡̯̥̭̘̱̻̰̰̰̲͓̥̑̚͝Ị̷̛͓̜͓̯̅͐̾̑̄̿̽̾̈̑̆̾̉̎̾͌͠͠͝ͅĽ̶̡̡̻͍̲̺͈̙͔̯̭̖̥͍̙̇̔͂͗̚L̵̡̹̳͓̝̫̹̹̮̺͈̪̯̟̥͖̜̥̠̙̝͌̀̐̄͌̎̔́̌͘͠͠ ̶̢̲͗̈́͂͝͠͝Ş̵̛̗̺͓̬͖̋̇̒̎̾̈̈́͘͠͝Ţ̸̱̣͉̥̤̜̙̹̈́̓̈́͒̈́̊͋͑̾̋̒̐̄̕͠͝ͅͅƠ̶̡̢̟̱̦͔̤̪̞͚̠̓͊͂̄̍͆̋͗̓͆͒̏̂̌̌̑́͠͝P̶̧̨̡̡̝̻̦̬͍̲͚̱̠̪̳̺̱̼̦̽̅̍̽̾͛̈̋̂̀͑̓́̈̚̚͜͝ͅ ̴̨̛̛̳̪͕͙͕͔͓̔̒̐̊̏̈́̈̅͋̐̾̌̎̚̕̕͝͝͝A̵̡̦̖̘͕̫̼̭̫̠̝̲̮̗͙͍̖̹͉̙͖͕̓͂̑̿̏́̿͑̓̈́͊̍̀́͂̇͆͒̑Ț̵̘̟̫̗̫̺̣̠̞̖̗̤͗̓͊̔ ̴̧̧̧̳̱̪͈̤̰͓͙͎̻̹̩̻͋̃̌̉̽͛̄̿̉́̃̊̕N̶̡̻͔̙̺̓̃͗͑͗͗̽͋̊͘͝Ơ̷͚͈̫̻̪̳̻̯̓̔́̆̊͊̓̀̓͂͆͗̽̉̉̿̅̈́̃͐̂͜ͅT̶̮͕͖̈́͊̐̏̋͊̉̉͌̈́̚H̵̡̝̳͇͉̖̦̣̜̗͚̠͕̜͓͚̫̩̙̉̿̕͠Į̴͎̘̻̯̮̲̗̯̟̱̱͖͍̩͈̦̱̩͛̓̐̈́̃͑͋͘͜͜͜ͅͅͅN̵̨̺̠̠̗͔̦̎Ģ̴̡̭͖̣̰̱͖̺̣͓̝̦̺͙̤̣̘͚̟̗̝̈́̏̽ͅ ̷̛̛̛̪̀͆͂̍̃̓͂̽̽͊̍͆̆̚͝U̴̗͖̝͈̥̪͙͖͙̤̗̒͗̽̽͗̏̐͊̽̈́̔̍̀̈̕͝N̴̼͍͙͂͑̇̈́͐̾͗̊͗͋̿͑̌̚̕͝T̶̛̬̳͔̾̍̅̇̓̓̎̉̑̕I̴̺͆̇̏̾Ľ̷̢̧͕͚̜̰͎͉̼̥͉̜́̈͜ͅ ̵̡͖̮̺͎̪͔̰̟̠͒̈́̆̕Y̶̢̡̛̱̜̤̯͎̺̰̱̩̳͙̫̭̟̰͕̭̞͙̜̑͛̈́͑͛̌̇̾̍̊̐̇̎̌̋̉͊͘͜ͅͅƠ̷̢̧̤͉͚̪͔̜̫͔͉̥͈̲͕̖̲̯̗̙̖̹̦̊͛͊͗̈́̃̾̄̅̃̇̋͛̕͘̚͜͝͝ͅǓ̴̝̦̥̗͍͕̻͓̪̻͈͓̺͕̙̲̦̦̣̫̖̀R̴̨̺͉̩̼̺̉̋͂̆̂̑̐̊́̚̚̕͝͠͝ ̴̢̡̡̛̟̯͙̥̝̥̜͔͕͖̠͉͚͖͓̮͎͙͉̱̎̽̈́͐͛̔̌̂̽͒̇̉̚̕͝͝B̷̰͖̳̬͒̃͛̋̾̌̆͝L̵̥͙̭̻̇̅̍̾̐̿̑̋Ö̶͕̼͚͇̻͙̣̻̟̲̙̲̲͚̦́͊̅͝͠͠Ö̸̢͔̟͍͙̭̤̙̝̮͓̻̺͈̪̩̥̪̜̥̰́͆ͅḐ̵̢̧̡̜̱͕̻̜͔̱̜̹͈͍͓͉̩̖̠̬̟̹̰̌̋̂̓͋̋̄͗̃̈́̆̈́̋̔̒̃̆͆̚ͅ ̸̨̥̗̞͔̮̓͐̒͂̎̇̆̽̐̃̊̑̚͘Ḓ̴̨͚̳̓͂̂͒̆̄͂͂͐̍̆̾͆̽̃̐͒̚̕͠͝R̶̨̨͉̮͉̻̎̓̎̎I̸̧̘̪̤̰̘̙̟̦̬̻̭̠̹͖͇̫̼͎̗͐̆̔̂͘ͅP̸̰̫͔̻͕̣̖̈́̇̀̄̆̊̽͋̆̅͗̽̒̓̈͊̇̾̄͘̚͝S̶̨̨̢̛͖̫̖̦̥̣͔͖͉̠̼̬̏̇̍͐̊͗͛̓̐̌̋̒̃͊͒̊̔͘͜͠ ̷̡̬̰̖͉͎̤̮͖̫̪͚͔͈̏͊̔̈́͆̋̇͗́̿̓͛̔͊̈́̀́̈͜͝͠͠ͅF̴̡̢̢̢̙̘̖̞̻̥̟̟̠͙̯͎͍̱̯̤̯̒̔͋̄̾͗̇̋́͐̚̚͝ͅͅR̸̢̟͙͔̣̤̬̤̱͓̹̺̰͕̥͕̗̲̳̗̆̾̃͐͊̉̚͝Ő̸̫̯͔̣̹̭̺̱̖̥̣͇̺͍̮̲̇͑̓͆͊M̴̨̢̧̥̫̦̙͖͚̺͈̼͔̟̖̥̆̉͆͂͐̌͗̔̉̓̇͑̃̐͐́͘̕̕̚ ̶̨͕̰̙̲͈̗̟̝͈̫͔̗̹̬͇͈̗̥͙̲͂̑͒̊̄͌͋̎̒͆̇̇͗̀͊̽͋̽͜͝ͅM̴̢̨̢̳̞̣̻̜͖̗̬̯̭̠͍͇̲͖͖̻͙̙̱̱̐ͅY̷̢̛͈͚̦͋͐̃̓̿̃̊̅̽̒̽̓̿̆͛̈́̕͠ͅ ̸̦̲̮͚̬̥̭͚̠͕̭̘̎̐̑͜ͅT̴̡̡̛͚̲̞̖̱͕̥̰̳͈͋̃̊͆̒̋̉͛̉̽͑̏͌͒͗̊͗̊̚͘͝͠͝ͅȨ̸̢̰̯̪̣̦̪̤̟̣̝͉̯͍̺̝̳̱̍͒Ę̴̤̟̹̻͈̈́̈̐̽̍͘͝Ţ̷̨̧̦͍̬̦̥̖̮͉͕̮̙̖̲̭͈̰͔͖̥͓͌̓͒͐̈̇͒͝ͅͅḨ̶̞̤̠͇̟͔̜̣͇̻̬̰͋͆̔͗̾̈̇̕͝ ̶̡̛͇̥̫̠̗͚̼̣͙̪̖̠̟̙̈́͛̉̔̇̃̍̃̆̉̈̈́̃̄͋̋̍̑̌̕͜͠͝Ä̴̡̡̨̮̦̪̫͔͉̳͕̭̮̪̙͚̭̱̘̻́̌͐̽̐̓̎̅͑͜͜͝͝N̵̨̡̯̦̱̪͍͖̲͕̜̺͖̺̯͒͐̒̈́͑̉̂̋͊̀̽͒̾̽͗͘Ḍ̴̨͍̯̼̭͙̜̖̦̥̻̙͖͌͛̈̈́͗̌͆̈͐̒́̈́̄̎̇͝ ̷̧̛̛͓̦̪̯͔͓̖͈̠͈̬̲̟̙͓͖̙̦͒͗͆͌̎̾̅͘͘͜͝ͅY̶̨̛̛̩͆̽̾̀̎̈́͛̈́͊͂̊̅̎͐͌̐̐͝͝ͅO̸̘͕̞̥͇̲͚̠͛͋̐̏̓̆̔̐̎̀̈̈́̾́̕͜͜͝͠ͅṲ̵̧̢̧̹̯̥̰̠͔̣̪͍̬̲̖͚̣̲̻̬͚̰̮̆̌̈̇͜R̵̡̢̫͈͉̣͚̥̘͍̼̗̬̦̩͎͖̈́̃̿̓͆̈̎͋̋̓ͅ ̵̲̘̌̉͗̾̔̈S̴̗͔͉̝̭̊̇̍̈́̎̏͑̒̃̊̋͆̐̔̽͂̋̕͝K̴̨̢̰͍̞̭͕̭̖̣͙̲̫̲͍͚̮̪̩͕̝̐̌̓̄̏̑̑̂͊͛̌̋͘̚͜͜͝U̶̧̧̱͍̜͕͎̼̜͉͍̫̒̔́͛͊̽̊̚͘̕͜͜L̵͈̠̩̞̳͚̱̳̂͑͌̈̃̀̑̑͂̓͘̕͠͠L̷̢̢͓͍͈͔̖̝̰̙̮̥͍̓͋͒̈́̏͜ ̸̛̺͓̮̞̙͍̣͐̐̏́͑̌͊̒̍̕̚̚̕H̷̨̨̪͖̯͕͌̽̔́̔̓̃̌̒̿̑̅͐̓̿̆̕A̷̢̛̘̦̘̤̥̥̗̯̓́̋̌͋̏͋̾̓̅͋͌̽̂͜͜͝͠Ń̵͕̗̉Ǵ̸̢̗͎̱͚̫̞̞͓̿̉Ś̴̢̬̖͈̩̗̹̼̱̙̱̮̱̬̱͔̆̋̂̾̕͜͝ͅ ̷̢̡̳̪̫̟͈̩̙̱͔̮͇͍̪̯̥̗̹̼͛̂͛̈͋̊̇̐̂͐͐̎̏͒͋͐̚͜ͅF̴̧̲̼̯͈͖̜̲͉̰̪̻̱̰̯̓͛̂̕͘͝ͅR̶̜͉̬̞̼̗̬͔̣͔̳̂̈́̑͊̃̒̍̅̓́͌́͂͐̍̀̓̊̂̈̎͝͠Ǫ̷̬̻̦̠̝̦͎̺̯̺̪̥̳́̽̓́̔͋̕͜M̸̧̤͇̓̈́̎̆͗͐̿̓̏͒̋̓͘͝ͅ ̸̥̝̱̔͊͗̊M̵̧͕̥̯͇͙͇͇̜͕̘̗̩͉͓͓̓Y̷̢̭̺̤̊̎͋̈́̌̽̽̽̒͗̾͑͂̽͆͜ ̴̨̛͉̖͙̫̲̉̅̽̔̈́̓̑̔̇̋̈́͗̊̇̾̈́̚͝B̵̨̢͍̭͖͓̭͚̗̯̠͖͓̟̣͓̥̹̥̤̥͐̅̽͗͝E̷͈̤̟̣̒͊̃͗̍̂̀̅͋̽͌͑͑̇̃͛̚̕͝͠Ļ̴̳͎̱̝͍̱̙͉̙̫͚͇̮̇̒͗͗̔͌͘̕T̴̜̟̫̪͒͌̌̏̊̓͌̋͐̊͋̾͛̇̂͘̚̕͜͠͝ ̵̱͖̹͇̪̫͉̫̙̼͊̔͑̊̽͑̔͑͋̈́̚͠Í̶̤̀̿͌̄̑͊̔̄̂͆̓̐̕͠ ̸̨̢̪͚̹̤̞̥͚̠̼̹̯̤̈́͗̏̏͑̓̔̃̎̊́̑͗̔̑̀̓̉̒̚͘͠D̵̡̖̘̼̖̹̰̰̖̼̘̲̹͎̩͓̟̫͌͋͌̍̒͌͛̕͝E̷̡̥̗̪̺̳̼̮̰͚̼̬͈͎͙̹͎̺̅̋̈́̋͑̈̕̕͜S̶̢̨̧̥̳̝͔̼̫̫̮̞͈͇̠͕̰̝̭̗̐͒̇͒͒P̴̬̫̭̭̙͋͊̽̄̋͜͠I̵̧̢̛͖̻̼̦̳̭̣̯̜̟̻͉͇̦̭͕̦͍͖͖̰͇̾̇̈͆̓͐͗̿̉̎͗̑͠͠ͅŜ̷̨̰͉̲̯͓͓͈͖͎͔͇͖̼̱̩̹̼͈͍͕̘̲Ȇ̶̛̛̞͉͕́͐̎̈́̓͂̈̉̂͝ ̵̡̡̹͙̣̜̣̤͇̲͙̳̩͇̽̉͜Ę̷̛͍̳̹̤͖̞̟͖̼͔͖̟̅̉̎͛̾͗̏̀̋̈̔͗͆̂͘͜V̷̢̥͍̜͎͔̭̗̠̝̦̰̮͈͕͎͖̭̘̣͕̩̑̾̾̎̌̒͒͂͊͆̔͌̉͜͜͠Ę̸̗̙͎̯̖̗R̶̛̗̯̳̪͍̱̫̮̪̱̋͒̎̏̍̅͋͛̌̏͌̽̉̈͘Ŷ̷̡̰̻̞̈̊T̸̢͚͇͍̲͉̹̠̝͇͙͈̮̻̩̣̝̥͎̱̮͆́̓͆͐̃̈̕͜ͅͅH̵̭̹̤̝̯͔͙̮͚̻̺̯̾͒͌̂̆̈̌̈͆̚͜͝ͅͅÌ̷̭̲͕̲͎̞͖͓̦͋͊̇̆̌̄̽̀̃̋͋̈̇̚͜͜͝ͅN̷̹̮̖͍̹͉̪̹̹͕͚̖̈́̚Ġ̴̨̨̨̦̣͔̬̬̣͖͍͚̯̝̬̻̙̟̺̂̓͑͂̏̓̋̾̉̚͜ͅ ̸̡̧̦̤̗̣̪̘͚͚̮͍͖͈̩̺̹̝͈͛̽̇̉̍̓̉̾͋̃͋͘̕͜͜͝͠͠Y̵̢̛͒̈̍͆̑̎̽͑̓̎̾͂͆O̷̧̧̧̨̺͖͓͔̻̮̟̩̬͚̣̲̞͚͓̙̬̖̾̓̅̇͑̂̊͗̎̋U̷̢͖̙̹̔̓͒̽͑̀̽̐̑͊̔̉̀͌͛̒̉̓͗͗̈́͌̕̚ͅ ̷̢̛̟̻̖͓͎̺̯̝͎̮͖̙̲͇̹̹͚͎̺̙̪͗̿̀͒͑̄͒̎̄́̈́͒̚͜͠ͅĀ̸̛̛̗̟̞͉̮͔͖͉̙͔̗̘̙̩͚̻̏̅́̓̍̽̏̈͆̃́̽͠͠ͅŖ̵̡̧̰͈̜̥͚͉͇͚̝̰̞̝̯͇̮̼͓̤̱͙̰̘̎͑̓̄̅́̃̋̇E̶̤̰̤̰͈̱̥̯̭̺̻̬̮̺͈͖̖̰̔̒̓̑̎͆̎͑͋̉̎́̔͗͛̓͆͘͘ͅ ̴̡̲̮̠͔͓̞̠̻̱͕͈͎͙͔̭̾̈́̋̋A̸̛̬͔̪̚N̵͖̮͈͖̤̠̖͇̝̫̝̰̪̻̺̝̩͈͈͔͈͙͍͈̲̾̆̉͊͌̌͒̓͛̽̍͆̈́̓̓́͆̈́̚̕͠D̵̨̡̞̰̤̟̳͕̬̉͗ ̴̨̧̤̝͉͎͔̱͔̤͚͉̪͙̘̤̠͇͇̫̯̑́͂̋͌̍̌̈́̃̂͂̇̇͋͌̍̔̊̓͘͘͠͝ͅͅĒ̶̡̧̧̪͎̥̘̟̱̱̠̉̑̋͒͆̾̆̕ͅͅV̶̛̛̘̙͙͍̲͚̲͉̹̜̙̰̒͐̊̈́̌͋̑̍̆͛͋̕͝͝Ę̵̜̭͓̬͓̱̩̜̬̤͙̟̙̩̟͇̳͕͓̟͈̓̔̓̔̀͊̇͘͜ͅŖ̸̡͔̲̯̮͉̭̈́͆͗̈͆̊͋̽̍͑̂͌͗̅̍̈͋͘ ̵͕̒̈́̊W̶̠̼͇̯̩̩͓̬̭̠̖͈͕̫̣̠̹̗͕̙͓̞̘̽͆̀̀ͅÍ̷̧͇͓̩̟̼̝͔̦͖̜̽̾̊͛͑̚͝L̴̨̨̟̲̤̯͉̟̬͔̮̮̱̘̝̻͔͕̉̈́̀͛͘L̷̨̨̢̡̛̬͎̻̯͇̝̗͔͖̘͕̯̗̋͂̐͛̐̂͋̌̊͂͑̈͒͝Ļ̶̯̟̩͛̑͒̈́̉̕ ̵̨̛̩̗̼̥͇̪̼̫̰̤̩̥̱̙͉͚̜̻̏̓͌̊̃͑̃̀͋̈́͆͘͜͠B̶̤͎̳̬͂̆͑͐̀̈́͐̆̈́̅̈́͗̏͂̾̑͑̾̈́͐͘͝Ȅ̶̢̧̖̘̖̣͙͓̙̲̮̥̙̪̺̹̩̺̥͈̔̓͜͜͝͠ ̷̢͙̗̥̯̔̓̾̉̊̌̆͒̀̓̽̍͗̂̿̓̋̊͘͝͝Y̶͇̻̝̣͛̅Ö̸̢̧̨̟̭̼̲͖͙̻͖̝̱̼͜Ư̴̛̼̮̰̭̇̅͌͆̇̒̅̔̒͒͋̓̎̒̐̄͛͝ ̵̢̧̖̹̟̭̭͙̬͓̜͊̍͛̆͌̚̕͜͝ͅD̴̢͍͎̩̼̤̺̻̺͍͙̠͛̈́͒̌̿͋ͅŎ̶̢͙̐̆̀͂̆̐̏̽͒͗̿̊̚N̶̡̻͉͕̻͊͒̂̆̈̓͗͂̓̂̎͊͝͝͠͠͝'̵̢̧̢̨̧͎͈̮͍͕͇͎͚̰̱̝̘̳͎̼͐̿͐̅͂͗̆͊͑̇͠͠Ţ̶̢̗͎͍͈̤̟̙̖̭̮̟͙̣͍̪͉̩̰̊̈͛͌̑̒͗̌̍̿̏̓͑̈͋̀͒͐͜͝͠͝ ̴̧̢̘̩̙̱͔̟̪̫̱̬̜͔͎̲͊̅̽͑͋͋͜͝͝ͅḐ̷̢̨̪͙̠͕̭͕͇̎͋̐̈́̓͛̄̓͂̿͆̃̉̎̌͐͝͝͠Ę̸̡̛̲͕͖͕̹̝̝̟̜͈͙̩̔̆̔̋̍̌̐̂̅̌̈́̐̄̓͌̃̌̽͘͝Ṩ̷̢̛͓̳̝̳̥̤̼̭͕͉͎͚̹͉̯́̊̃̈̽̔̋̋̋͋̃́͊̊̊́̌̕͘͝Ĕ̷͓͕̽̀̏͌̃̈́̄̓̑̿̃̄̋̒͘͘͝R̵̙̥͔̫̘̅͌̔̀̍̓̂͊̊̑̀̆̍́͘͘͠V̷̢̢̟̜̲͔͙̘̤̭̻̲̰̋̍͌̎͛̐̇̓͊̏̑͋͋̂̐̈́͝͠ͅͅË̷̢̡̢̱̭̥̣̮͈͙͖̟͍́̓̚ ̶̛̙̥͉̟̘͇̣̓̃͂̒͗̽̏̕H̸̨̢̛̛̛̫̱͈͚̅͛̎̈́͐̐̇̇̅͛̆͋̿͛̄̕͘͘͝͝͝͝Ą̴̢̲̖̭̯̯̝̩̹̖̱̀͑̓͛͊̈́͂̿̿̂̇́̍̀͝͝ͅͅṔ̷͇͉̲͔̬̗͝Ṕ̶̛̲̱̹̭̠̤̹̠̘̠̠̫̲̻̲̓̀͒͑̇̓͆̓̿͌̆̿̋͂̿̽͘Ĭ̵̡̧̡̯̞̙͕̗̯̝͓̘͈̱̤͍̮̙̣̈̋͝͝ͅN̴͕̹͖̘͙̳̋͂͗͛̈͘Ĕ̴̬͑̄̈́͐͠ͅS̷̨̡͈̱̙̫̖̰̪̳͇͓̱̩̟͊͂̀̂̄̔̃̍̄̓̅̾̎́̈̈́̕̕͜͜͠͝S̸͍͈̻͚̈͋́͐̌̾̈́͌̔̋̃͒̏͛̈́̍͜͝͝ͅ

  
  


̵̝͙̯̼̱̺͒̀͝Y̸̨̞̗͙̮̆̐̈̽O̷͎̦̊̓̕Ȕ̷͎̈̎ ̶̡̳̯̣̫̈́͗͑T̴͙̋̌̈̌͠H̴̱̬̳̥͓͜I̷̮̺̺̳̎̀͠͝N̴͕̩͐K̵̨̩̱̬ ̴̟̻̈́̑̈́́Y̸̮̘̟̭̹͗̒̄̅̚͜Ȍ̸̝̥U̸̜̰͒͒̏̆͝'̷̯̻̩̞̙͛͜R̵̼͑Ḛ̸͙̾̂̓̕ ̸̥̯͌̌̓͋͛͆S̶̢̛̼̈́̋̓A̷͉̣̟͇̯͋̔F̷͇̔̉̇̓̚Ẹ̸̞̯̖̙̗̽̅̉͘,̵͗ͅ ̵̫͇̠̰͔̄̎̉͜Ľ̶̯̞̄̽̔̆̿I̶̡̛̖̱̞̲̯̅͛͐̕Ţ̷̬̭̠̎̆͑T̶͇̯̠̓̅̄L̸̬͍͎͠E̸̫̞̯̹̜̤͆͂͌͊̽͝ ̷̨̠̩͋̊̚P̶̥͈̳̜̥͖̌̈̅͛L̶̨̡̨̮̱̀̒ͅA̸̮̲̭̓̐̇Y̷͈̾̑̕Ē̵̟Ȑ̴͎̘̝͐̆?̴̫͋̎͐

̴̻̇̈

̷̱͂̃̈͘͘F̵̱̬̬̂̈́̚̚Ȏ̶̧̺͙̰̈ͅȰ̴̫̐͘L̷͇̗̺͉̊̾͗̒

̵̢̄͋̆͌͂͐͗̀͒͊̅̾̊̇͋̿̊̈́̄̐͒͗̽̈̈́̄̚̚F̵͖̥͔̲̜̦̗̦̊́Ṏ̵̡͉̤̥̜̦̪̪̮̣͚͈͇͓̮̥̻͈̮̬̇̈́̅̌̒͐̄̐͋̏͜͝ͅƠ̷̱̗L̴̨̨̛̛̼̫͇̠̙̘̮̭̳̰͕̤͙̐͋̑̐̿̍̐̓̑̅̅̍̀͗̏͋̍̈̌̊̆̕̕͜͝͠

̶̡̢̤̩̤̬̯̖̬̗̖̹͙͖̪͉̣̻̖̦͓͖̳̗̝̾̿̒̏͝F̷̡̨̳̰̣̙̠͇̝̮̫͈̲͍̹̭̘̺̼̟̩̫̯̼̱̳̘͑̃̈́̿̽̂͌͘Ǫ̶̡̢̮͓̲͓̳͍͓̼͔̯̈́̌͗̐̂̓̉̃̓͒͆̉͋̾̑͐̏̾̈́͗̏̀̅̀̇̕̚͘̕͜͜͝O̷̡̬͙̫͖̰̳͕͔͎̱͓̤̓̆̃͊͑͗̿̑͗̈́̓̚͜L̵̦̙͚̅͑͒̏̅̽̇̾̓̒̕͝͝

̸̛̤̟̱̼͈͋͛̓̌̾̓̑̈́̾͗̽͘͝F̸̨͍̲̬̙̱̠̰͆̒͝Ǫ̷̛͈̗͍̫͈͍̗̻̜̖̰̲̲̭͙͖͉̬̮͓̮͉̤̂̊͋̒̂̓̈́̾͆͋̋͐͒̊̎̀̐̏̈́̒͛̕̚͜͝͝͝ͅO̸̧̡̲̱̖͚̞̤͙̩̣̤̤̻̪͉̩͉̯͙͉̘̪̠͓̗̯͚͍̣͆͜Ļ̷̛̳̝̱̝̣͇̮̠̦̳̤͔̱̫͇̟̭̯̣̭̜̠̙͓̣̳͓̐̈͂̋̇͑͐̇̆̀̆̓͛̿͝͠͝ͅ

̵̨̡̺͚̺̫̞͙̩͓̬͙̠̟͙̞̬͂̐̿͆́́͒̍̂̈́͑̆̎͊̇̔̀̓̂̉̉̑̉̚͝F̶̧̦̖̗̪̳̪̺̪̭͎͖͖̜̻̭̩̺̘̯͔̺̺̼͓̘̤̗̗̈͒̀͐̏́̈́͗̆̔̑̈́̒̇͂̑̈́̑͂̔̈́̈͑̏̕̚̕̚͝ͅͅỌ̴̧̡̡͉̤͈̹̯̪͔̜̺̙̣͇͇͙̮̳̟̭̬̩͐̈́̌̌͆̊̑̋̈́̈́͑͌̑͌̚̕͘̕͠͝Ỏ̸̡͇̲̤̳̳̰̖̯͖̝͈͚̘̰̺́̈̉̓̊̃̄̑͂̓̈́̉̈́̅̆̌̓͗͛̔͛͒͘̕͘͜͝͝͝ͅL̷̨̡̰̭̟̼̘̬͉͎̘̤̻͚̹͎͍̻̯͕̭̠̘̻̪̔̿͌̍͛̔̔́̈́̃͆̍̎̈͌͛̂̏̓͒̕̕͝͠͠

̷̭͙̄͐͛͂͌̿͊̽

̴̨̧͉͉͕̞͚̟̣̮̪̹̩͙͗Ý̴̢̧̛̘͚̹̯̤̙͖͇̂̽͗̀̿̐͌̿̅̎̇̑̈̇̒͜͝Ǫ̵̨̢̧̻̖͉̳̭̯̫͚̰͚̝̦̱̏̆̅̎́̑̍̈́̌͜U̸̯̳͈͖̪͎͔͈̮̙̼͉̍̑͗͑̓͑̎͋̏̓͂́͋̈́̄̉̈̓͝ͅ ̴̡̡̧̨̢̨̧̹͔͔̩͔͍̪̮̗̠͙͍̪͚̹̥͇̫̳̳̯̻̤́͑͗͆͆̐̔̈̿̔̏̉̿̿̔̒́̓̇̇̔͘͜͝͝͝P̴̛̼͈̱̐͂͐͐͊̓̾͑̋̐̐̊̉͑͌͛̌̔͝͝͠͝ͅL̶̨̡̦̹̲̩͎͎̫̪̟̳̝̙̳͚͚̜͉̑͋͑͒̚A̴̧̡̮̭̼̫̩̯͙̔͆̇͛̿̂̃̇̂̽͛̄̆͌͊͌͆͊̎͊̌̕Ỳ̴̢̨̡̨̧͖̼̻̬͇̪̭͈͖̘̟̟̺͚̱̞̳͈̟͇͚̗̦̉͗̽̽̽́̕̕͠ͅȨ̴̛̪̘͕̟̝̝̘̞̰͙͙͖̫̣̬͊͐̂͆͊͗̍͊̍̌̅̓̂̋̑̋̐͌̉̄̚͘͠͝͠͝Ḋ̷̢̡͖̣̺̳͍̮͇̠̌̈́͜͜ ̸̡̢̧̧̛̪͚̰̝͓͇͍͉̣̼̪͖͙̹̹̲̻͈̩͒̎̅̂͂̿̈́̒̽͗͊̓̈́̌̾͋̈́̎͑̿̓̊̏̔̓͠͠͝͠ͅT̸̢̩̦̹̺̥͍̘͍̪͈͕̣̳̫̲͑̍̓Y̶̢̛͈̖̙̬͓͓̪̲̦̙͓͙͇̞̘̻̖͈̦̿̀͂̓͛̅̑̈̑͆̚̚͜͠͠H̵̡̱͎̥̬͖̻͕̠̜̻̦̖͈̱̩͖͖̞̱̪͊̒̌́Ḯ̷̛̖̦̘̟͕̬̖͋̊̋̒̔̈̌̃̈̾Ŝ̶̢̫͍̯̟̯̮̠͙̟̥̮͈̯͙͚̹̹̻̘͔̼͌̐̊̍̂͐̓͑͂̃̕͜͜͠ͅ ̵̫̳͍̻̻̥͕̂͌͛̄Ḡ̸̡̛̻̓͆̀͂̽Ạ̷̧̢̢̢̛̲̫͖̮̤̩̬̭̰̬̺̫̍̌́̎̌̃̿̃̆̾̇̃͐̇̓̅̍̍͛̏͐͘͠M̵̨̢̨̢̛̛̠͖͙̟̝̮̝̻̼̯̜̤̪̱̈́͋͐̔̿̈́͌̀͛̈́́̇̉͗̌̐͆̆͂̎͒͌̾̍̽̓̂͘Ë̷̢̱͈̭͓̠͕̮̟̬̜̮̪͚́̇͐͋͛͗̉͒͋͒͐̌̎̀̂͊͑̇͜͜͝ͅ

̵̨̢̡̛̭̫̪̫͖̘̥̪̼̣̮̘̳͉̖͚̞͉̼̯͍̮̗͓͚̽̿̉̓͊͊̂̈̍̏̍̽́̈́̈͘̚͘͘͜͝͠Y̴̧̨̡̛̭̫̼̯̯̳̮͔̖̠̭̠̙̫͇͔͖͍̯̣̦̹̐̂̽̈́̏̅͒̉̍͌̾̓̀͆̂̈́͂͜ͅǑ̴̠̲̻͔͖̪̔̾̿̓̄́́̇̆̒͗̾͌̒̄U̴̡̡͉͙̥̯̗̺̤̺͍͚͕͖͇̦͇͍̜̠̱͕̪̮͕̘̫̻̳̓͆͗͐̾̒̽͒̓̽͒͆̂͒̈͂̾͑͐̕͜ͅ ̶̧̧̨̢̛͚̘̠̺̯͈̞͉͍͉͍͉̼̦̺̰̬̦͚͎̭̥̘̱̈́̈́̽̃͛̽̑̒͑̿̊̈̿͗̄̆̋̍̿̕̕Ķ̴̹͉͍̖̥͉̥̟̠̪͚̟̬͙̙̳͖̹̻̫̻͖͍̜̖̎͐̌̿̃̈͋̈́̈̍̃̎̌͛̒͋͐̀̆͒̊̌̉̕͘͜͜͝N̸̡̡̗̳̥͇͔̹̺͖̳̼̟̻͈̹̔̊̓̍̏͛̕ͅO̸̡͕͙̖͖̣̤̐͒̓͋̀W̴̨̛̛̝̣͎̖̾͋̓̄̈́͗̍͑̓̊̊̔̊͛̇̂̊̔͑̈͐̐͊̇̓͜͜ ̴̢̘̖̟̳̣̦̳̜͍̣̪̘̳̰̖͎̩͍̩̭̻̳̓͋̓͛͌͑͌̎̀̐̍̓̈́̀̈͌͋̇̂̕͘͜T̵̡̠̰̘̫̞̰̹̫͔̩͇̯͛͂͛̓͊̄̽́͑͐̎̂͛̽͋̚̕̚͠͝͝H̷̼̣͔̜͙͙̬̮̑̐͗̋̅͂̋̽̇̅̎̓́̐͘͘̕͠͠͠Ȩ̷̨̛͕̜̳̖̤͉͉̭̣̹̜̪̘̫͇̓͠ ̷̨͐̓͛̽̑͐̏͊̉̃̂̅̃͆͆̏̀̽̓̿̚̚͘͝C̷̛̥͖̺͖̰̩̥͙̫̦̩̫̠̹̬̩̘̭̦̝̝̭̞̗̩̗̱͙̊̈́̈́̒̃̉͋́̀̀̅̅̿̐͆̀͆̕͝Ơ̷̧̧̨̡̛̯̯̹̠͙̩̘̙̬̏̐̿͛̒̐͆͗̎͌͐̌̊̓̇̈̎̒̚͘͝͠N̶̨̛̗͕̫̬̳͚͔̭̥̩͈͙̘̯͇̩̻̝͔͆̂͂͊̉̾͒̿̿͋̀̏̆̓̔̂̄̅̐̄̄̂̍̌̀̕ͅͅS̶̨̧̢͚̬͖̼̼͎̤̤̬̖̰̩̯̩̼̹̱̥͙̺͎̲̖̮͉̗̆̍̋͊͗̈́͒̓̊̓͊̂̐̈́̕̚̕͜͝ͅE̸͈͙͙̬̠̳̝̗̘̙̤͉̔̾̒̽͋̈́͂̉̀͘̚͠ͅQ̸̡͇̮̳͎̥̖̬̈́̿̑͋̓̂̌̑̎̀̌̈̂̃͛͊͐̏̒͝U̶̫̺͙̱̒̐͊̈͑͆͒̓̀̃͝͠Ȩ̷̢̧̖̺̬̭̱̮̻͓̞͓̟̮͕͚͙̭̠̏̔̍̄́̅͒̒̽͛̈́̑̈́̏̿̔̏̎̿͒̀̄͒̔̈́͗̕̕͝Ṅ̴̡̛͍͙̟̯̟͓̲̼̟̣̬̙̦͓̖̫͇̖̒̆͒̊́̔̍̌͜͝ͅC̶̦̻̼̦͎̦̹͉̣̫̹̟̱̲̈́͒̄̎͑͛̔͜E̶̡̢̨͔̯̮͕͙̮̗̣̰̫̙̬̻̖͙͉̰̹̘̺̜͚̥͉͎͑̈́͌̅̕ͅŞ̵͍̜̩̳͚͉̗͙̣͇̞̋͌͗͗͋͆͋͑̋̄͐̀̈̄̇̕͜

̵̟̖̝̮͔̠̮̖̭͎̅̈̈́̚͠͠Ȉ̷̭̞͔̉̽̃̄͗͐͌̄͑̅̑̈́͂̈͠͠ ̸̢̢̡̘̼͚̣̺̮̩͉̠͍͕̩̙̦̗͓̯̻̣̝͕̻̭̃͒̋̔̊͂̐̏̔̒̑̎͒̔̈́͐͂̀͑̅̈͌̽͗͌͌̚W̸̢̛̪̙̠̖͙̳̪̲͔̘̳̟̜̙͖̩̼̤̮̜̥̤̒̐̄̆̓̅̃̏͒̏̓̂̍I̴̧͎̜̓͑́͌̌̄̓͘L̷̢̧̧̤̣̳̘͚̟̮̞̠̟͇̥͖̫̖̟͛͗͐͆͋̌͌̓̿͂̽͛̆̉͆̽̒͌̒̈́̍̂̓L̶̨̢̛̛̬͓͇͓̲̤̳̭͉̦̺̯̞̘͍̯͕̙̗͍͍͍̼̬̦̣̱̮͗̋̎̀̔̽̏̆̐̉̇̆͗͐̒̊̀̆̕̚͝͝͠͝͝ ̶̡̧̛̳̮͍̙͓̱̤̥͓̮̜̭͗́͌̇́͋̔̇ͅF̴̢̢̘̯̰͇̖͓̻̘̭̝͓̫̪͔̭͙̼̪͎̂́̉̋͝I̷̛͙̦̟̖̜͐͑̓̅̽N̵̢̨̧̛͙̜̘͍̩̪͇̖͚̗̤̫͚̜̝̪̤͇͈͓̠̣̣͈͐̎͗̓͒͊̏̈̕͠D̴̢̧͚̫̜̯̮̫̬͔̥̲̫͖̙̂͆̎̋̆̅̈͆͗̕͘͜͜͠ ̴̘͈͍̰̰̓̐͐̑̉̕Ỷ̴̧̢̛̤̹̲̩̓̂̎̈́͘O̶̢̨̡͓̹̥̣̹̤͔̣̙̦̳̻͓̳͎̯͙̖͔͔̘̪̠̺̘̰͚̩͌͌́̊͛͒̔̋̎͋͗̒͋̓̓̏̔̀̓̏̎͠͝Ȕ̸̼͉͉̖̰͇̖̝̞̣͉̩̋̏̉̇͌̔̈́͌͊̀̕͘͜͜͠͝͝

̵̭̌̒̆̏̿̓̈́̑̇̑̍̈́̄͘̚͘͘͝͠

̸̹̥̙̱̫̀̉̎́̓͋̉̂͛̓̍̚͘͝ͅͅ

̴̧̧̦̱̣̠̩̫͉̟̫̭̞̱̖͔͍̠͚̦̣̪͙͙̟̫́̔̔̓͐̔̈́̂͛̄̈́̌͋̅̈̏͊̂̂̓̈̕̚̚T̷̺̉̎͒̆̔́̽̊̋̓̑͒͂̍̒͂̃̋̃̚̕͠Ḧ̸̢͕̳̱̺̟̝͕͙̩̳́Į̵̛͖̪̫̠̫̣̥͚̪͉̺̜̩͕̣̦̠̗͇̽̊̈̆̃͆̒̂̄̅̐̆̋̑͆̉̎̾̉̊̇̃͊̓̋̕͜͝S̶̱̺̳̞̟̤̘̳̉̈́̀̈́̊̆͘͘ ̷̧̗̖̞̽̇Į̴̻̣̫͖̜͔̞͖̘̗͊̀S̵̢̨͔͕̺͈̼̪̩͈̻͕͓̭̞̻̻̐͌̋ ̴̨̟̠̪͈͔̼͎̏͒͊̈́̊̓̓̃͛̈̋̈͆͛͌͗̅́̈́̿̓̚͠͠N̵̨̨̡̨̧̡̥̭̝͉̦͕͚̲̞͔̱͓̣̺̺̟͔͎̳̲̗̦̙͐͜Ǫ̸̢̨̫̫̘̮̥͕̻̙͈̹͕̠̙̦͕̫̖̪͚͎̪̼͍̯̎̍̑̓͋̅͛̄́̋̑͑͋̎̏̈͑͌̍͆͌̈́̐̈̈́̕͘̚͜Ţ̷̨̛̯̬̭̬̺̳͍̦̘͔̋͛̑̊̋͌͐̽̄̓̋̈́̇̑́̿̇̌͊̚̕̕̕̚̚͝͝͠ͅͅͅ ̴̛̛̠͖͉͚̝͓͕̥̘͖͛̿̿̐͂̅̈́̈̄͑̐̑̽̎͐̐̈́͘͠O̷̖̼̻͍̮͓̙̗̔̉̈́͋͑̕͝V̶̧̖̠̰̦̫̫̠̪̼̘̥̭̰̥̗̭̲̭̗͇͍̤̱̞͍͎̦̦͚̐̔̂͛͆̓͂̈̓͂̓͌̽͌̇̆͒̈́̾̚̕͠ͅȨ̸̧͕̙̱̯̬̖͕̣̲̪̦̹͖̟̱̖̝͉͇̜̮̺̘̹̰̒̆͋̓͑͋͌̄̃͌̍̌̊̔͗̕̕̚R̸̛͖̪͂̐͑̂̏̽̊̃̀̿͝

  
  
  
  


_ [→ Chapter 48](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745267) _


	50. fifty.

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

  
  
  
  


Taeyong lunges at the figure, knocking him onto the ground.

“Taeyong!” Jaehyun wheezes as Taeyong’s fingers close around his throat. “What are you doing?!”

Johnny laughs and laughs and laughs.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I can’t forgive you.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He squeezes tighter, blinded by rage and fear and grief and _ fear. _

“I won’t let you hurt us any longer!” He growls as Jaehyun spits back at him. Something behind his gaze shatters.

_ “YOU ALL MUST DIE!” _ He screams, garbled from Taeyong’s fingers crushing his windpipe. “_DIE! DIE! DIE!” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I don’t want to die.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

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** _PLEASE DON’T KILL ME_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Life flashes back into Jaehyun’s eyes, only for a brief moment. “I can’t-- _ control it!” _ He sobs, scrabbling at Taeyong’s grip on his neck. He’s bitten clean through his lip, blood streaking down his neck.

_ DIE! DIE! DIE! _Taeil chants. 

Taeyong can’t tell who’s speaking anymore, vision foggy and balance thrown askew. He can only focus on the dizzying feeling of Jaehyun’s life slipping away under his fingers.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I don’t like your little game. I don’t want to play any more.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Wake up, Taeyong.” Jaehyun whispers.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**KILL HIM**

_ [→ Chapter 54](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49745366) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	51. fifty-one.

_ DON’T INTERVENE _

_ → Selected! _

“I can’t” Taeyong gasps, desperately holding onto the guard rail. His knuckles turn white as the car squeaks and lurches from side to side. “I can’t hurt either of you! P-Please don’t make me hurt you!” He dissolves into tears, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears nothing but the sound of flesh hitting flesh across from him. “Please. _ PLEASE!” _

Their screams sound foreign to his ears.

The car finally reaches the crest, lingering for a little. Taeyong can’t tell if this is part of the ride, or if somehow the group on the ground hasn’t figured out that their plan has gone awry.

“Johnny!” Taeyong leans halfway over the railing, too blinded by grief and desperation to notice the peril. “Please! Bring us down! _ ABORT MISSION!” _

There’s no response from the control room.

“Oh, God.” Taeyong muffles his sobs with one hand. His heart squeezes painfully as he brings his knees up to his chest, head thunking against the metal pole in the center of the car. He blinks the stars out of his vision. Even if he wanted to stop them, it’s too late. He can’t move, and the screams are getting weaker.

They’re all going to die up here. Taeyong is going to watch as his brothers turn on each other, and then him.

He’s _ helpless. _

Paralyzed with fear, Taeyong cracks one eye open.

_ Useless. _

Doyoung is babbling manically to himself. He’s got Yuta in a chokehold, fingers tightening the more the boy struggles. Yuta’s lip is bloody, cheek flowering with dark purple bruises. Doyoung looks like he’s been scratched through the right eye, keeping it closed as blood flows relentlessly over it. Doyoung has his back pressed up against the middle pole, pinning Yuta to the back of their seat.

Yuta’s legs kick weakly, his strength sapping. Doyoung’s head tilts back against the pole, spitting blood onto the rickety floor as he hyperventilates. Even as he appears to lose his mind, his moves seem sane, calculated-- unlike Yuta, who is snarling like an animal if he’s speaking at all.

Yuta’s entire body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, glimmering in the shifting lights of the Ferris wheel. There are unnatural bags pressing deep bruises into his face, veins bulging out grotesquely, almost like the skin around them has shrunken into his bones. His stringy hair is matted with blood, almost indiscernible in his strawberry red hair.

His red eyes glint with something Taeyong can’t quite place.

Doyoung closes his other eye, gasping for breath as he’s cast in beautiful reds and blues. He can probably feel Yuta’s life draining away under his fingers, so why isn’t he letting go?

“Let go, Doie.” Taeyong croaks, and he does. His fingers slowly peel off Yuta’s neck, distinct finger-shaped bruises left in their place. Without his support, Yuta’s head flops backwards, clanging against the back of the seat. He slumps over, convulsing.

“Th-that’s a good boy, Doie. That’s it, it’s over. You’re okay. Y-You’re-- You’re okay.” Taeyong stutters, trying to control his own sobbing. He pries his own hands away from the rails, shivering as he holds his arms out as wide and welcoming as he can manage.

They’re quiet for a moment.

Doyoung turns around on trembling legs, heaving. His eyes are blown wide with terror, shaking hands coming up in surrender as Taeyong instinctively flinches away.

“Yong, I--”

A foot promptly connects with Doyoung’s back, the boy’s spine crunching horrifically as he’s thrown into Taeyong. 

Taeyong pitches over the edge, completely caught off guard. Screaming into the harsh wind, he scrabbles for purchase on the slippery cart, but it seems the wheel has chosen this particular moment to begin its descent.

“_NO!” _ Someone wails from above him. It sounds like his own voice, the breeze cruelly bringing his pleas right back to him. They would never have made it to the heavens, anyways.

God has turned his back on them all.

Taeyong collides with one of the support beams as he falls, black spots clouding his vision. He can no longer tell up from down, left from right, life from death. The air whistles menacingly by his ear, chanting words dripping with poison into his fragile mind.

_ Failure. Failure. Failure. _

Taeyong flails uselessly in front of him, but he’s falling in empty space, nothing but him and his regrets to haunt his final moments.

_ Killer. Killer. Killer. _

Himself, the one he hates most.

_ That’s a long way to fall. _

Taeyong can only agree as his body crumples onto the frozen ground, succumbing to the inky black.

**B A D E N D**

  


_ PLAY AGAIN? _

_ [→ Start ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193) _

_ LAST CHOICE? _

_ [→ Chapter 29](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744931) _

_ [END.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49784396) _


	52. fifty-two.

_ LET JAEHYUN LIVE _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)


	53. fifty-three.

_ ACCUSE JOHNNY _

_ → Selected! _

**ROUTE UNDER CONSTRUCTION.**

Hi, thanks for playing so far, I hope you like it!!! The rest of this route is currently under construction, and will be up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please enjoy your other options.

Be safe out there :)

  
  



	54. fifty-four.

KILL HIM 

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM 

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM 

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM 

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

KILL HIM

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Interesting choice, Taeyong.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaehyun’s struggling grows weaker and weaker, the demonic tongues erupting from his mouth slowing to a stop as he wheezes for breath. Taeyong’s nails dig deep into the flesh. 

He couldn’t let go if he tried, sobbing uncontrollably over Jaehyun’s body.

“Why, Jaehyun?!” He howls, shaking Jaehyun back and forth. The boy’s head knocks against the filthy bathroom tiles. “Why did you hurt us? _ Why did you hurt us?” _

_ Why did you kill us, Taeyong? _Jungwoo cries.

“_Yong--” _ Jaehyun whimpers as his eyes roll back, body completely giving way under his touch.

Taeyong watches, terrified of himself, as Jaehyun dies by his hands.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Why did you kill me, Taeyong? _Jaehyun blinks at him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ ??? _

_ [→ Chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744553) _


	55. fifty-five.

_END_

_ → Selected! _

** _G A M E O V E R._ **

thanks so much for playing!!! i've been working on this fic for more than a year now, and it's the biggest project i've ever taken on. thank you so much for trying this out, i hope you enjoyed it! please leave a comment letting me know what you think, or if there's anything else you'd like to see from me/this universe. i really will try to get those last few routes up as soon as they're ready, please feel free to bookmark the fork you were on/subscribe to the fic so you can continue the game when it's done.

happy halloween!

twitter: pixeljunnie

curiouscat: pixinoa

tellonym: diotima

** _PLAY AGAIN?_ **

_ [→ Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924672/chapters/49744193#workskin) _

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: pixeljunnie
> 
> curiouscat: pixinoa
> 
> :)


End file.
